Broken Winged Birds that Cannot Fly
by Blueberrychills94
Summary: *Sequel to It's a Jungle Out There* Katniss and Peeta, alongside their friends, are determined to overthrow the fraudulent hold that Principal Snow has had on their school for the past 75 years. Katniss also struggles with her pregnancy and ensuring the safety of Peeta, who's mental health continues to deteriorate, endangering not only their relationship, but his own life.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here it is, guys! The kick start to the sequel of It's a Jungle Out There! I would strongly recommend reading that first before you try this one if you're new.**

 **I know some people weren't happy with how the first story ended and I respect your decisions regarding whether to continue or not. I would also like to avidly apologize for the rant at beginning of the final chapter. I shouldn't have involved anyone else in what was going on and it was very childish of me to do so.**

 **Onto a happier note! I hope to see some familiar faces from It's a Jungle Out There and I hope you enjoy this first chapter! :-)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Broken Winged Birds that Cannot Fly

Chapter One

 _Agony rips through my body. Like a sledgehammer is being slammed into my gut repeatedly. Again and again and again. I scream until my throat is raw, clawing at my belly as I'm wheeled through endless white corridors. I try to lift my head but it's so heavy I can only manage a couple of centimetres but it drops down heavily again. Every time I try, I catch a glimpse of scarlet red blood coating the white sheets beneath me._

 _I grab the paramedic's arm with a sweaty hand. "What's happening?" I beg to know. She doesn't answer me. Her eyes are focused straight in front of her, no expression on her face besides indifference._

 _I'm wheeled into an operating room. There's a doctor waiting there for me, a mask obscuring most of his face. He looks old but I can't tell for sure what he looks like. The paramedics push me down by my chest and I feel two hands grab my ankles, forcing my legs apart to assess the damage beneath. My chest heaves as I fight for breath, my eyes frantically searching the ceiling for an answer to what is happening to me._

 _The loss of blood is making me dizzy. The room is spinning; so fast I feel like I'm going to fall off the bed. My throat is too sore to voice anything over than mild distress, the only sound leaving me being broken whimpers and cries. My baby. What's wrong with my baby?_

 _I look to the woman I had grabbed before. She looks at me as well. Her piercing green eyes pin me down and the room slows down a little as she removes her mask. My heart lurches into my throat as Glimmer stares down at me, a sly smirk burned into her features. "Time to get the little one out now," she purrs at me before bursting into maniacal laughter._

 _The other paramedics remove their masks. Cato. Gale. Marvel. All of them staring at me like I'm a meal they're about to devour like wolves. I scream and lash out, beating them with my bloodied fists. It doesn't bother them. In fact it makes them laugh even more. I force myself to sit up. If they're the paramedics, then who . . . ?_

 _The doctor sitting between my legs lifts his eyes to meet mine. Nausea sweeps over me as I recognize the beady, snakelike eyes. He too pulls off his mask and I'm staring into the face of Principal Snow. "Now Miss Everdeen, I think it's about time you started to push, hmm?" he says._

 _I wrench my feet out of his grasp and lash out blindly. They all laugh at me. Their amusement building into a deafening harmony until I can't hear anything besides their sick satisfaction-_

"Katniss, it's time to get up!"

Mum's voice jolts me awake. I interrupt her with a gasp of surprise and I nearly fall out of bed in shock. I grab the edge of my mattress and cling on, my fingers digging into the material as I desperately try not to fall. I pull myself back up onto the bed and look around my room, expecting to see all the blood and the mocking faces of my enemies. Instead I see my four walls and cluttered floor. No blood. No enemies. No hospital.

I fall backwards onto my bed and cover my face. I've been having nightmares like this ever since I found out I'm pregnant. It's only the end of October-I'm only a month and a few weeks into it-but dreams of labour have been haunting me ever since.

Next week is autumn break and it couldn't come along sooner. I've only been back to school after my suspension for a couple of weeks but it's felt like forever. Nobody knows that I'm pregnant. I'm keeping quiet about it for as long as I can. The only people who know are Peeta and my friends. Anyone outside of that is a threat. I'm getting enough shit right now at school, I don't need any slut shaming. I'm not an idiot. I know that's what will happen when they find out.

Marvel doesn't even know about it. I've been contemplating telling him but I don't know how he will react. I'm sure he's suspicious. Especially after the phone call about the condoms. I've been considering hiding it from him and just giving the baby away when it's born. I can't see Marvel being particularly keen to go against me in this regard so I don't know why I'm putting off telling him. Maybe I'm just being a coward.

I drag my leg out of bed and stand up, stretching myself out so all my bones crack into place. My leg is in a brace now and I don't need crutches to walk. I still move with a laboured limp but it's easier than hobbling around with the crutches. I'm still seeing Doctor Aurelius and taking my pills, just not as regularly. Apparently, I'm making excellent progress. I don't know how because I don't feel like it. In fact, I feel like I'm regressing more than I'm progressing.

In the bathroom, I plop onto the toilet and grab the black bags out from under the sink. It's a bitch having to knot bags over my leg every morning but it's better than the alternative. Besides, I get to sit on a stool now when I shower. It may sound lazy of me but the aid is greatly welcomed.

As the hot water splatters my hair and body, I think about school. About how my friends and I have made a pact to bring down Principal Snow before Senior year ends. How do we expect to do it? I have no idea. I'm glad I've gotten my act together and switched to the good side of the pond. The people who I used to consider as the dwellings of 'Loser's End' are actually extremely nice people. And they're overwhelmingly clever. Without them, I would be in this alone. I'm greatly thankful for their support.

I grab a bowl of cereal and sit down at the islet in the kitchen after my shower, where Prim already sits eating toast. She's already off on her Halloween Holidays. In Middle School you get two weeks whereas Principal Snow only sanctioned one week for us. It's not enough to get him taken down for but we've made a note of it, just in case it comes in handy later.

"Where's Mum?" I ask as I sit down.

"She's on the day shift so she left while you were showering." Prim pushes the milk closer to me so I can add it to my cereal. "How'd you sleep?" she asks over a bite of chocolate spread toast.

"Alright," I mumble, sounding exhausted and contradictory to the answer I give.

"I heard your bed creaking a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare or something," Prim says.

I shake my head and rub my eye with the heel of my hand. "Nah, I'm fine. Just the usual silly things, you know?" I say. Wanting to get off the topic of my dreams, I ask, "Any plans for today?"

"Rory and I are going to catch a bus to the Capitol," Prim explains. She sucks chocolate off her thumb and dives back into her toast.

"Rory?" I repeat dumbly. "As in Rory Hawthorne?"

"Mmm-hmm. He got transferred to my class," says Prim. "He's really cool. We're going to go pick out Halloween Costumes for Rue's party this weekend."

Rory Hawthorne is Gale Hawthorne's brother. I don't know him very well. All I can hope is that he isn't like his big brother. Judging from how different Prim and I are, this is thankfully entirely reasonable to hope for. I don't even know what I'm doing for Halloween yet. Cashmere is having a party, I know this much. However, ever since I started dating Peeta and hanging out with his friends I have become unwelcome at all of her parties. It doesn't matter to me. If she can't accept Peeta as my boyfriend then I don't want to attend her shitty party anyway.

The kettle clicks as the water boils. I swivel on my seat to get it but Prim waves me off and gets it herself. "You be careful with him," I say. "His big brother is in my year and he's"-

"A douchebag, I know," Prim says. She pulls two mugs out of the cupboard, dropping a tea bag into one and coffee granules into the other. "Rory says Gale is a bit of a prick. He apparently dates this super annoying girl called Glimmer. Rory says she has this ugly voice and wears so much make up she looks like Miranda Sings half the time."

I snicker over my cereal bowl. Even Gale's siblings don't like Glimmer. Absolutely brilliant. "Well, as long as you know what you're doing," I tell her, still trying not to laugh about Rory's description of Glimmer. "Don't make the mistakes I did."

"Oh trust me, I won't," says Prim as she pours the water into the mugs. She turns around and hands me my coffee. "You don't have to tell me twice. It seems that some boys are wind up merchants and others are just complete idiots. I don't even know how you could sleep with a guy who was dim enough to believe that you could poke holes into your condoms without consequence."

"It's more complicated than that," I mutter. The coffee warms my belly and I feel it already taking effect on my senses. Theoretically you're supposed to drink coffee and have a fifteen minute nap for it to work properly but I don't have time for that. I need to be heading off to school soon. I'm allowed under 200mg of coffee a day (two cups of instant coffee) and it won't harm the baby in any way. I'm thankful for that because without coffee, I'd be a grumpy zombie and there'd be no hiding that I'm pregnant.

"What do you want to dress up as?" I ask Prim.

"We're thinking of maybe doing couples costumes," Prim explains. When I raise my eyebrows at her, she zips her lips at me. "Our priority is the Joker and Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quin?" I turn my nose up as an image of the character comes into my head. "Isn't that costume a bit . . . revealing?"

Prim rolls her eyes. "I'm the Joker and he's Harley Quinn!" she insists.

"Oh." I frown. " _What?_ "

"Some bet he has with the guys in our class. He has to wear a female costume," Prim shrugs. "I wouldn't wear it on my life but I'm definitely up for being the Joker!"

Well, that's not so bad then. I'm not entirely fond of the idea of my sister parading around a party dressed in a skin tight costume. I know she has to experience the consequences of things herself but a party full of possibly drunk kids is not a good time for a learning experience. Especially when Prim is blue eyed and innocent. Prim is smart but there's some things smarts can't save.

I down the rest of my coffee and shoulder my satchel as I stand up. "I'll have to go now. I'll see you later."

"Bye, have fun!" says Prim.

"You too," I reply at the door.

The walk to school is nice. The weather this morning isn't too brutal so I'm not going to get blown over or slip on some puddle. It's been getting brighter and warmer since the storm at Homecoming weekend but I think it might just be the build-up before the winter drop. Where temperature plummets and ice begins to settle everywhere. The leaves are already beginning to turn to mulch on the ground. The crisp orange phase is beginning to pass to the 'everything is dead' phase.

I've sworn to myself that I must keep fit. I can't let my pregnancy make me lazy. I've seen what happens to women who think they can lounge around and 'eat for two', thinking their weight will drop off again once they've given birth. I'm due in May, meaning there's a still a chance I can cheerlead at the last game of the season in June. My leg is predicted to be healed around February but by then I'll be showing and there will be no hiding that I'm pregnant so trying to immediately get back on the squad then will not be possible. I just have to maintain my body mass intake and stay as fit as I possibly can until the end.

Clove is waiting for me at the school gates. She too has lost the respect of many of the 'popular' students because she stands by me and my decisions. She could give less of a damn like me but I hate the fact that I've dragged her down with me.

"I am exhausted," I say, leaning against the gate for a minute to catch my breath.

"Didn't sleep well?" Clove asks.

"Bitch of a nightmare," I answer, "but I was asleep for all of it."

"Couldn't your mum have given you a lift into school?" Clove asks as we enter the school building.

"She's been on earlys," I explain. "She leaves before I'm even dressed. Besides, the exercise will do me good."

We grab our books out of our lockers and don't linger around the corridor. We go straight to form period so I have somewhere to sit down. My legs practically collapse out from underneath me as I sit at my table. I'm mid-way through my first trimester and I'm constantly feeling like I'm going to pass out. The only teacher in the school who knows about me is Miss Trinket. My mother came into the school and had a private conversation with her about the situation. I don't mind Miss Trinket knowing. She's one of the very few teachers-alongside Mr Abernathy-who are genuinely alright.

Miss Trinket pulled me aside when I came back after my suspension. We had a talk after class about what the school can do to help me (and by school, I know she means just her because I'm 100% sure that if Principal Snow knew I'd be on my own). I've been given a toilet pass and I'm allowed to drink as much water as I need during class. Since Miss Trinket also teaches P.E, she allows me to be excused from it and swaps my study skill class for a 30 minute session of 'gentle exercise' that she will take me through step by step.

When Peeta comes into class I try to perk up. He has a tendency to worry about me in the same way I worry about him. We're like mother hens towards each other in that regard. He kisses me-earning some scoffs in the background-and asks, "How are you?"

"I'm fine. A little tired. You?" I reply.

"Pretty much the same," Peeta says. He pulls a seat over to Clove and I's table and sits. He opens his satchel and hands me his food diary. Peeta's doctor told him that he must keep a food diary and keep track of what he's eating to ensure he's getting enough calories to gain and maintain a healthy weight. He's supposed to show it to a family member so they can revise it and make sure he's doing okay but Peeta was uncomfortable with doing it with any of his siblings or his mother. He would have asked his dad to do it but I think his dad would have discussed it with his mother which would have defeated the purpose of keeping it from her. So Peeta asked me to do it. And I'm honoured to help in whatever way that I can.

My eyes skim the diary. Last night he ate a poached egg with toast and this morning he had cereal for breakfast. I nod my approval and close the book, smiling at Peeta with delight. "Good job," I say. "No red stars for a while now!" The red stars represent a meal that he couldn't stomach and forced back up. There hasn't been any stars marked for a week now.

"Yeah, it's kind of getting easier," Peeta replies sheepishly.

"I think I can even see some muscle coming back," Clove says, playfully punching Peeta's arm.

"Now I know you're just kidding around with that one," Peeta smiles back.

Clove blows on her knuckles and rubs them against her shirt. "I speak the truth and nothing but!" she declares dramatically.

"Except when you're caught selling beer to the Freshmen," I remind her with a grin. "Then it's all 'oh, I thought it was ginger ale'!"

"Can it Everdeen, I'm making a point." Clove sticks her tongue out at me childishly. I stick my tongue back out at her.

Miss Trinket calls Clove over to talk about her recent bleep test results. Peeta takes my hands in his and asks, "How are you really feeling?"

I shrug. "Shitty," I admit. Peeta can spot a lie from a mile off. "I've been having these horrible nightmares." I lower my voice to a whisper. "About going into labour and the birth."

Peeta nods his understanding. He strokes the top of my hand with the pad of his thumb and it's extremely relaxing. "Do you have an appointment with a midwife yet?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah, my mum made one for me," I reply. "It's on Friday at 4:00."

"Well, that's good then," Peeta says. "You can get all the information you need from them."

I nod. The appointment with the midwife will apparently get me started on a long list of things I must do during this first trimester. I'm already behind since I didn't figure out I was pregnant until midway through. I'll be hitting the second trimester in December and I haven't even started anything I'm supposed to have done yet.

"Peeta?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you come with me?" I ask. "I'm supposed to bring the father but I can't bear to tell Marvel yet because I don't trust him. He'll tell everyone and I'm not ready for that."

Peeta's eyes shone with concern. "Am I allowed? Since I'm not . . . ?"

"Oh yeah, of course you are. It's not like you're intruding or anything. I can bring anyone I like, it's just the first choice is usually the dad," I quickly explain.

Peeta then smiles. "Then of course I'll come with you," he says.

I lean forward and hug him. He wraps his arms around me and gives me a squeeze. I'm content to just stay this way. My face seated perfectly in the crook of his neck. My nose buried in his collarbone. My hands hooked around him. Bodies nearly pressed together. It so relaxing, so nice, I feel like I could almost fall asleep-

Something cold suddenly engulfs me and I scream in shock. Peeta and I jump apart and I realize with horror that I'm drenched in something sticky. I spin around and see Glimmer standing a bit away from us with an empty cola cup in her hand.

"Stop with the humping, you're making us sick," she spits.

I move to stand up and fire something back at her but Peeta grabs my arm and holds me tight. I look at him with fire in my eyes but he shakes his head in this tiny minute way that only I can see. I slacken. I promised him I'd stop baiting Glimmer and company. I have to become the bigger person.

"Glimmer!" Miss Trinket yells. "What was that all about?"

"The loser twins were imprinting on each other," Glimmer snaps. "It was making me feel nauseous."

"Go to Principal Snow's office now!" Miss Trinket shouts.

Glimmer shrugs and chucks her cup away behind her as she leaves. The rest of the class are snickering in amusement. Peeta pulls a packet of tissues out of his pocket and hands it to me to dry my face with. He wipes himself down as well. We both know that Glimmer won't get punished. It's almost become a routine now.

Clove returns to the table, looking like a bull about to rampage a small village. "I'm going to fucking strangle that bleached bitch," she mutters.

"It's okay, Clove," says Peeta. "It's honestly not worth it."

"Yeah. No one got hurt. We're okay," I add. My clothes are already beginning to stick to me and the smell is making me feel nauseous myself. I stick my hand up. "Miss Trinket, can I use the bathroom?"

"Of course, Katniss," Miss Trinket replies.

"Do you need someone to come with you?" Clove asks quietly.

I shake my head. "No, I'm fine."

I stumble out of the room and run to the bathroom. Thankfully it's empty as I throw myself into the nearest cubicle and upchuck my breakfast. The smell of vomit fills my nose and throat and I have to force myself not to cry. This is how my life is going to be for the next eight months. I have to learn to deal with it.

 **A/N: I am currently doing some research regarding pregnancy so I can make Katniss' journey as accurate as possible. This story won't revolve around the fact that she's carrying a baby but it's something that also can't be ignored at the same time until it's been nine months.**

 **Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Peeta and I have gotten as far as kissing. No further than that. It can be difficult sometimes. More on my side than his. I'm so used to jumping into things. Leaping straight for it and having sex right off the bat. It's hard for me to take things slow. I want to but I struggle to. I forget so easily. Especially when in the moment. I am so used to all interactions that are remotely heated leading to something sexual that I nearly always forget that Peeta isn't ready for that.

Peeta always comes back to my place after school so we can do homework together and he can teach me some math. Prim is usually out with friends and Mum's day shift doesn't end until a bit later so the house is nearly always empty for us. So, after all the academic stuff is out of the way, we talk for a bit and usually end up making out. Usually incited by me because Peeta has the sexual prowess of a kitten at the moment.

I have to admit, kissing someone you have genuine feelings for beats having sex with someone you don't care about. I love kissing Peeta. It's one of the best parts of my day. Even when it's simple pecks, it always makes everything else become so much brighter. When it gets hot though . . . it does get pretty fucking hot.

When we first did this (and by 'this' I mean properly, full on make out), I had to assure Peeta that he was doing okay. He felt incompetent and fumbled a lot. In all honesty, his nerves made him sexy in my eyes. We started slow and have been building our way up ever since.

The full extension of my body lies against Peeta as we kiss. My fingers comb through his hair as our tongues tangle against each other. He cups my face, the gentle way in which he touches me making a fire ignite in my belly, while his other hand rests on my hip, his thumb seated just at the waistband of my jeans. A part of me desperately wants his hand down further. The way my jeans rub against my core doesn't help. I am physically restraining myself from rocking my hips against him in fear of causing this to end too soon.

Peeta's lips leave mine and find the skin of my throat. I moan my approval and tilt my head back to give him more room. His teeth skim my skin ever so slightly, his tongue teasing me like the little ribbing shit that he is. Honestly, when he does this sort of thing I'm almost positive that the innocent school boy front is an act. It has to be. Because there's no way in hell he can be this damn good at necking without some sort of experience. Then again, Peeta is always full of surprises.

I pull his head back and kiss his lips, my fierceness a little brasher compared to his gentle approach. We both have our own ways of doing this and they complement themselves so perfectly it's practically orgasmic on its own.

My teeth find his earlobe and I nibble on it teasingly, my fingers finding his lips as he moans. Sometimes I just like to touch his mouth because when we kiss, his lips sort of swell up and feel like silky rose petals beneath my fingertips. I tap little kisses down his neck, along the bones which still jut out a bit too much. My hand slides off his face and down his chest, along the bumps of his ribcage until it rests on his belt buckle.

Peeta jolts and snatches my hand off him quicker than lightening. I jump in surprise and meet his eyes, immediately feeling guilty. "I'm sorry," I quickly say. "I got lost in the moment."

"Don't apologise," Peeta says, flushing bright red. He straightens his glasses and I nearly groan out loud. "It's more my fault than yours."

"No," I say, sitting up again on the sofa, panting a little with exhilaration. "I promised I would take it slow with you. I have to adhere to that."

Peeta sits up and rubs my back. "And you are," he insists. "I understand how hard it must be and I appreciate your trying."

I turn into him and rest my head on his shoulder. His arm winds around me naturally and I lean closer into him. His body heaves a little as he tries to catch his breath and I close my eyes to simply listen to it. It soothes me just to listen to his breathing and his heart beating, or feel it against my face. It assures me that he's still alive. Still with me. Still fighting.

The front door opens and we jump apart. It's hardly the worst thing to be caught doing (and if it had happened a minute previous we would have been caught doing something a lot more embarrassing) but my mother trusts me to respect the house, especially when she's not home. I don't want her to think that Peeta and I are abusing that in any way. Because we're not. We're just kissing. I don't blame my mum for being weary, however. I did get myself into the situation of being pregnant, even if it wasn't entirely my fault.

Prim barrels into the house, a plastic bag clutched to the top of her head in the place of a hood. She is soaked to the bone. It must have started raining again. Rory Hawthorne comes in after her and my mum follows behind.

"Oh my god, the universe is weeping!" Prim declares dramatically.

"When did it start raining?" I ask, twisting around on the sofa to look at her properly.

"Two hours ago. Just when Rory and I stopped outside the bus stop to wait for the District 12 bus!" Prim replies. She stomps into the kitchen and throws the plastic bag onto the kitchen islet. "Mum had to come and get us!"

Mum pulls her thin, blonde hair out of its ponytail and ruffles it with a sigh. Her scrubs are spotted with rain, the dark green cardigan she's wearing not enough to protect her from the weather. "You're going to have to start bringing an umbrella or at least a hoodie, Primrose. I can't guarantee my shift will be over next time," she says.

"I _had_ an umbrella but it got lost!" Prim insists.

"We'll get you a new one then," says Mum. She passes the coffee table and smiles. "Hello Peeta."

"Hello Mrs Everdeen," Peeta replies.

"I told you it's Rose!" Mum calls as she disappears down the hall.

"She had to tell Rory that too," Prim says as she joins us in the living room with two bottles of Sprite. She glances at said person and frowns. "Sit down will you?! The seats aren't going to eat you!"

Rory smiles sheepishly and sits down on the armchair adjacent to the sofa. I eye him wearily, unsure about whether I can trust him or not. Prim is unaware of my unease, handing Rory one of the two bottle and seating herself on the arm of the chair he sits on. "What'cha doin'?" she asks us.

"I was teaching Katniss some transformations," Peeta explains, gesturing to the shitty triangles that I drew on tracing paper. They're shaky and crap because every time I turned to listen to him, I kept staring at his mouth and thinking about how much I wanted to kiss him. Hence how we ended up as we did.

Prim picked up the piece of tracing paper and pulled a face. "Oh God, is this what I have ahead of me? This is the rubbish you get taught in High School? I'm already stressed just looking at it."

"What are you doing?" asked Rory. "Rotations or reflections or . . . ?"

"Rotations," I answer.

"Gale is doing that right now," Rory said. He scratched his neck and laughed. "He sucks at it. Big time. It's almost hilarious how bad he is."

The thought of Gale struggling with his maths homework amuses me maybe a bit more than it should. I smirk to myself in amusement. "That's because he doesn't have what I have," I reply, throwing my arms around Peeta's neck and kissing the side of his face.

Peeta laughs. "If his grades had have slipped any further he might have done," he says grimly.

I turn my nose up. "Well tough for him," I say. "He's too late."

Mum comes back dressed in a fresh set of clothes. I can see the bags under her eyes as she passes us to enter the kitchen. I stand up and follow her, leaving Peeta to chat with Prim and Rory. I find Mum crouched in front of the freezer, shuffling the boxes and bags of food around to try to find something for dinner.

"You don't have to, Mum," I say. "I'll cook tonight."

"No, no, no, Katniss, it's fine," Mum replies, waving me off. "Would Peeta eat chicken pasta? Do you know? I think that's the only thing I'll be able to make enough for all of us . . ."

"He will, Mum, but in a small portion," I answer. I walk around the islet and stand beside her. "It's seriously alright, I can make the pasta. You're exhausted. Go get some sleep and I'll call you when it's ready."

"Katniss, I'm not an old woman," Mum says firmly, pulling the chicken out of the freezer and dropping it onto the bench beside the oven. "I don't need to sleep when I get home from work."

"You do when you're working eight to six," I answer. "Prim said you had the morning shift. Doesn't that mean you should have been home at, like, three?"

"I'm working extra shifts, it's no big deal," Mum replies, beginning to sound thoroughly agitated.

"Please, take a nap," I plead. "Are you off tomorrow?"

"No, I've got to work the night shift tomorrow."

I know that my mum has been overworking herself. I don't know if she's trying to prove that she's not the way she used to be when dad died and is fully capable of work or if she just doesn't want to ask for time off. I know it's definitely not because she enjoys her work. Sure, she likes being a doctor, but not when she's being choc-a-blocked with it without much pause for breath.

"Has Peeta agreed to go to the Midwife with you?" asks Mum, moving the conversation topic away from her.

"Yeah, he has," I tell her.

Mum steps past me, pauses and frowns. "Do I smell coke on you?" she asks.

I look down at myself. I changed my shirt when I got home so it can't be my clothes. Maybe the sugar has infused with my skin or something. "I spilled my drink on myself at lunchtime. The scent must be lingering or something," I lie. I don't want to worry Mum about what's going on in school. She's stressed out enough as it is.

"You got to be more careful with these things," Mum sighs.

"I am. I promise," I say. As I speak, there's a twinge in my stomach. My hand goes to it instinctively and I hiss in pain. Mum looks at me with concern as I seat myself at the kitchen islet. "I swear, the only good thing that I'm getting out of this is that my period won't come for nine months and yet I'm getting more pain in one day than I do during the entire week of my time!" Okay, so this may be a bit of an exaggeration . . .

"Your uterus is growing," Mum explains.

"Well I'd prefer if it stopped," I reply dryly.

"I know, I know," says Mum. She pulls out a chopping board and sets it on the islet opposite me. "These things can't be helped." She waves her hand in the direction of the living room. "Go back to Peeta, you still have to study, you know. Don't think I'm going to let you off easy just because you're pregnant. Education still comes first."

I roll my eyes but do as she says. When I return to the living area, Prim has replaced me on the sofa and is peering intently at Peeta's notepad. "Katniss, look at this!" she says, waving me over.

"Here, shift," I say, gesturing for her to get out of my seat. "I need the chair more than you do." Prim climbs over the back of the sofa but props her elbows beside Peeta's head. I sit beside him and glance at what he's doing. He is writing something out. "What are you doing?" I ask him.

"He's writing me the recipe for the bakery's cheese buns," Prim says excitedly.

"Isn't that sort of thing like top secret hush hush family recipe?" I ask him.

"It's no bother, really," Peeta replies.

I smile at him. He smiles back. I snuggle closer to him and rest my cheek against his shoulder while he writes. Another twinge tugs on my insides and I can't hide my discomfort. A tiny gasp of pain escapes me and my hips lift a little as if trying to ward it off.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Prim quickly asks.

I glance at Rory unsurely. I can't have him knowing what's wrong with me. Not when he's so close to Gale. "It's just cramps," I say flippantly.

"I know what could help that," Rory suddenly says. I watch him in bewilderment as he gets up and goes into the kitchen. My mum immediately starts talking to him like they've known each other for years as he flicks on our kettle. What's he up to? And why is he interested in helping me at all?

Peeta rubs the bottom of my back, trying to soothe the pain away. I throw my chin into my hand miserably and focus on the chills that jitter up my being at the feeling of his hands on me. Prim jumps into Rory's seat, tucking her knees in tight as if it's going to solidify her ownership of the seat.

When Rory returns, I'm shocked to be handed a hot water bottle from him. "Put that against your back and it should ease the pain," he tells me.

"Thank . . . you . . ." A part of me is worried that he's done something to the bottle. I know I'm being paranoid but I don't know a lot about the Hawthornes. What if they're all assholes and some of them are just assholes in disguise? Peeta takes the bottle from me and puts it on the sofa so that when I sit back, it presses against my lower back.

"I also heard that hot baths are good for cramps but I thought that if I mentioned that first Prim may have slapped me," Rory explains.

Prim reached across the coffee table and smacks his side anyway. "That's for assuming I'd jump to conclusions," she informs him.

Rory rubs his now injured side and sighs. "Apparently it is good for cramps though," he says.

"Thank you, Rory," I say. Hot baths aren't recommended but I think that I can have a warm one . . . as long as my body doesn't get above a certain temperature.

"You two leave Katniss and Peeta alone to study now!" Mum calls from the kitchen.

"Can we go to my room?" Prim calls back.

"No!" Mum answers. "Go to the conservatory!"

I snicker a little. Mum will be able to keep an eye on Prim and Rory from where she stands in the kitchen as the conservatory is only a little down the hall. Living in a bungalow ensures little to no privacy.

Prim grumbles and gestures for Rory to follow her to the conservatory. When they're gone, I feel myself releasing a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Is it irrational of me not to trust that boy?" I ask Peeta.

"I wouldn't say irrational," says Peeta. "You're only worried about your sister because of the things Gale has done. You just have to remind yourself that sometimes there's only one rotten apple in the orchard. Or, in different terms, one fresh apple. Which could be Rory. He seems nice enough to me."

"If he hurts Prim I'll chop his balls off," I mutter vindictively.

"I thought they were 'just friends'?" Peeta teases.

"They are as far as Prim has told me," I answer. "But she thinks I don't know her. I see the way she looks at him. All I can do is hope that he isn't a heartbreaker like Gale."

"Only time will tell," Peeta sighs.

"Annoyingly," I mutter.

We do another forty five minutes and stop when the pasta is ready. I wolf down all of mine and wait with Peeta as he eats his. It takes him a while as every bite is still a challenge. I don't mind waiting on him. I'm delighted that he's eating at all. Afterward, he says he better be getting home as his mother will be giving herself a hernia trying to find him to tidy up the bakery.

"Okay," I say begrudgingly, following him to the door. "I should probably see if that bath Rory mentioned will help me any."

"Let me know if it does," says Peeta, giving me a hug. He squeezes his arms reassuringly and I kiss his cheek as he pulls back.

"I will," I promise.

"Johanna wants to talk to us tomorrow. All of us. I think it's to do with our . . . um . . . _pact_ ," Peeta explains.

I nod. "Yeah. It's about time we talked about it."

Peeta nods his agreement and kisses the top of my head gently. I close my eyes for a moment. His lips against my forehead is so comforting, that one small gesture so overwhelmingly affectionate and perfect. It beats any sex I've ever had. Everything with Peeta is so much better than any previous relationship because I know that he cares about me. I can feel his affection for me radiating from him whenever he touches me and kisses me. I can only hope that I am able to express the same back to him.

When he's gone I draw a bath and submerge myself in it. I try to forget my woes and ignore the fact that there's a part of me that wishes that Peeta had stayed here and maybe joined me instead . . .

 **A/N: I'd like to thank you all for the amazing response to this story! It means so much to me that you all are willing to come back to listen to my fictional ramblings :*)**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Enough shitting around," Johanna declares, "we've wasted enough time over the past few weeks just milling around doing nothing. If we're serious about doing this then we have to talk about it. And, realistically, start to work when we return after the Halloween holidays."

We're all sitting in the classroom where Johanna tutors the Physics students. Nobody questions why we're sitting in a classroom during lunch-because, really, most of them prefer us out of their way-and we can discuss this openly without worry of being overheard. Clove couldn't make it because she has a film club meeting and we don't want any suspicion aroused by her not showing up.

"I agree," says Finch. "We're wasting precious time."

"But realistically, what can we do?" asks Annie. "It's not as simple as opening the students' eyes to how corrupt Snow is. How are we supposed to pull those who feel the same as us out of the cracks? We barely had the bravery to do it ourselves!"

The room laps into silence as we try to think it over.

"Do you think if we complain to the school board, they'd make a case out of it?" Finnick purposes.

"Depends on if they want to listen to a bunch of angsty teenagers," I reply. "And Snow would have had to have done something really bad. Like relationship with a student sort of bad."

Johanna, who sits on the desk at the front of the classroom like she owns the joint, taps her chin thoughtfully with her fingernails. "We need to have some adults on our side," she concludes. "Are there any teachers we can trust?"

"Mr Abernathy," I say immediately. "When we were in the hospital waiting room together he said he couldn't wait until he retired. He hates Principal Snow, just like us."

"Miss Trinket seems alright too," says Finnick.

"Well that's easily explained: they're both fucking," Johanna scoffs.

We stare at her. "What?" Finch is the first to ask.

"Oh come on! Don't pretend you don't know!" Johanna insists. "They're always sneaking off together; stealing glances and shit."

I roll my eyes. Ridiculous. If Mr Abernathy and Miss Trinket had a relationship, we'd all know about it. Something like that can't be hidden, right? I look at Peeta, who's still eating his lunch bit by bit, and ask, "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, allow he doesn't look too good.

"You've eaten some," I say. "Don't force yourself."

"I _have_ to though," he replies.

"No." I gently remove his lunchbox from the table and put it underneath. "Out of sight, out of mind. You may have to eat but you can't force yourself to if you're feeling ill." I thread our fingers together and we hold hands on top of the table. I feel his hand shaking a little in mine and I lean forward and kiss it gently.

"Are you two okay?" Johanna asks.

"We're fine," I say.

"Do you think Madge would be willing to join us?" Finch asks.

"I don't see a reason why not," Finnick answers. "Katniss was the one who got suspended after that brawl with Cato and Gale even though Gale said some very inappropriate things about Madge without even getting so much as a slap on the wrists."

"We should definitely ask her," Johanna concludes.

I hope Madge is willing to join us. We need as many people as we can get. If we end up having to just go to the school board then we're going to need as much students as we can get to prove that Snow is corrupt.

Annie is chewing viciously on her fingernails. She does this when she's lost in thought. Our eyes fall on her and she doesn't notice until Finnick gives her a little nudge. "What?" she blinks.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask.

"Oh." Annie places both her hands on the table, her eyes scrunched as she stares at her chewed up fingernails. "I just have a thought in mind. It mightn't work though until I know all the details so I'd rather not share it just yet."

Johanna picks her satchel off the floor and pulls her pill box out of her bag. She has one of those long days of the week ones for her mood stabilisers and-I only discovered recently-antidepressants. I feel bad for submitting to peer pressure and calling her Polar Bear. I made up Peeta's nickname but the rest came from other people. Foxface, Nuts and Polar Bear weren't from my head.

Johanna throws her pills into her mouth and downs some water to make the swallowing easier. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and sighs. "So that's all we've got?" she says. "Talking to Mr Abernathy, Miss Trinket and Madge to try to get them on our sides?"

"It's a start," Peeta says.

"I will find out more about my plan for when we come back after Halloween," Annie promises.

Johanna rubs her eyes with exhaustion. "You're right, Peeta," she sighs. "It's a start. I'm just worried that we won't be able to do this."

"We will," Finch says, tying to sound confident. "At least we _have_ a foothold to start with. It might spread the word a little."

"What if Snow hears about it?" Johanna asks.

I scoff. "It's unlikely he'd believe that we can do anything."

"I suppose you're right," Johanna admits. She blows a raspberry and scratches her head. "So . . . plans for Halloween?"

"None," Finch answers.

"Non-existent," Annie sighs.

"Peeta and I are going on our first date on Friday but I don't think we have anything planned for Saturday," I explain.

Finch frowns. "Your first date?" she asks.

"You've been dating for three weeks now," says Finnick.

"True," says Peeta. "But we haven't exactly had a _date_ -date yet."

"You know, where you go out to eat or to see a film etcetera?" I add.

I was kind of surprised when Peeta and I realized that we hadn't had a proper date yet. Everything had just been such a jumble. What with Peeta going into hospital, my realizing that I truly liked him, my suspension, the pregnancy . . . we never got a chance to actually go out together on a date. So after my appointment with the midwife, we're going to go to the Diner _'District 10'_ that isn't too far from the hospital.

The thought of the appointment with the midwife makes my stomach churn. I place my hand on my stomach and look down, thankful that I'm not showing.

"Well, then, enjoy it," says Johanna. "More than we're doing."

"Even Prim has got plans . . . She's going to a party," I mutter.

"Ooooh, does she have a date?" asks Annie.

My nose subconsciously scrunches up. "Rory Hawthorne," I say.

Johanna starts to laugh while the others look somewhat surprised. "Really?" Finch asks in disbelief.

"Yeah, I know. Fate is a bit of a bitch," I say.

"Don't let him hear anything about our plans," Finnick says. "I don't know a lot about that kid. He always kept to himself when I was at Gale's house. I don't know if we could trust him or not."

"I personally think that we can," says Peeta. "He was very kind to Katniss."

"But you're hardwired to see the best in people," Johanna reminds Peeta.

"Which you say like it's a bad thing," Peeta smiles.

I squeeze Peeta's hand and he directs his smile at me. I beam back, proud to be able to call such a lovely person my boyfriend. He was able to see the best in _me_ and that wasn't an easy feat, especially considering the way I was at the beginning of the year. I just hope that we're able to overcome the obstacles ahead without tripping and falling.

I'm not sure I'll be able to get back up if I fall over.

~xXx~

The hospital is daunting. As soon as Peeta and I set foot in the building I'm reminded of many things. Of when my dad was rushed in here after his accident. Of how Prim and I were sent home with one of mum's friends because we were too young to stay sitting around in a waiting room. Of when I ran with Mr Abernathy after the paramedics as they wheeled Peeta through A&E after he went into cardiac arrest.

I hate hospitals.

The only difference now is that my hand is safe in Peeta's. My heart is beating fast in my chest and the warmth provided by having Peeta's hand around mine keeps me sane. I'm worried about what this appointment is going to be like. Even if it's irrational, I keep feeling scared that I'm going to be told that the baby is going to have to be removed by a gigantic hook or something instead of natural labour because I'm so young.

"It'll all be okay," Peeta tells me, seeing the concern on my face after we check in.

"What if the Midwife treats me differently because I'm so young? Like I'm a slut or something?" I reply.

"It's not her job to judge you," says Peeta. "She won't anyway. You'd be surprised how understanding they can be here."

"When they're not bumping up my mum's hours, that is," I mutter.

We pass a waiting room on the way to the stairs. I notice a blob of yellow out of the corner of my eye but wouldn't have thought anything of it if I hadn't been pulled to a halt by the voice. "Katniss? What are _you_ doing here?"

It's clearly a sneer. A sneer I wouldn't mistake anywhere.

Glimmer gets off her seat and approaches us. It's weird seeing her in such a casual environment. I've only ever really interacted with her in school or at parties. Her skinny jeans are so tight on her legs that I wonder if she just painted her legs navy to pass them off as jeans. There's a grid penned onto her forearm. I can only see half of it because of how her hand rests on her hip.

I panic for something to say to her. I can't say I'm in for a midwife appointment, she'd spread it like wildfire! She'd make stuff up, things that aren't even true! Maybe say that Peeta's the father and we're planning to elope together to Greece to avoid the shame that we've brought on our families!

"I'm having a check-up," Peeta lies smoothly. "I've been having them ever since I got out of hospital and Katniss always comes with me for moral support."

A weight lifts off my chest and I exhale with relief. I lean my head against Peeta's arm and enjoy the look of dissatisfaction that our answer has given Glimmer. She was definitely looking for gossip. Maybe something along the lines of STD treatment. "What are you doing here, Glimmer?"

"If you must know I'm being tested for allergies," Glimmer sniffs. She picks at the grid on her arm. I can see it better now. On each square of the grid, there's a tiny bump. Except for one near the bottom, which has swollen up like a balloon.

"My god, what is that?!" I exclaim.

"Each square represents something different. The huge one is tracker jacker venom." Glimmer huffs in agitation. "The fact that it's swollen means I'm allergic."

Tracker Jackers are a species of wasp. Their venom is extremely painful and can cause hallucinations but not death. If you don't take the stingers out of your skin immediately then it can cause an infection and maybe you'll get a limb chopped off but I've never heard of anyone dying from it. It seems that a sting is lethal to Glimmer now.

"Urgh, whatever," says Glimmer, throwing her arm down by her side. "I'm not going to be seen talking to you losers any longer." With that, she spins around and returns to her seat.

Peeta and I head up to the third floor of the hospital, where the Midwifery is located. There aren't many others in the waiting room. This puts me at ease. I don't think that I'm in danger of meeting anyone I know here-especially not in the Midwifery-but after running into Glimmer I already feel a little at risk.

My Midwife is a kindly lady called Portia. She asks me a couple of questions about my family history and when my last period was. My bloods are also taken, so is my blood pressure, and I'm asked to give a urine sample. It's safe to say that I've never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I had to hand Portia a container of my pee while my boyfriend was sitting right beside me!

I'm a little overwhelmed by the end of the appointment but I'm glad it's done and it's something I can check off my list.

"You're just over eight weeks, right?" asks Portia.

"Yes," I answer.

"Then I'll book you in for a dating scan in three weeks' time. Does that suit okay?"

I nod numbly. I'm going to see the baby that soon? Is it even so much as a blob yet?

"Do you know what you intend to do with your child?" asks Portia as she pens herself a note about booking my scan for me. "Are you planning to keep it and put them into care while you go to school or . . . ?"

"Oh, no. I'm putting it up for adoption," I reply.

Portia nods her understanding and adds that to her notes about me. "I'd recommend keeping an eye out in your local area for people who may be interested in adopting your child. Sometimes having your baby close at hand is more comforting than having them taken away to the other side of the world."

I doubt there's anyone in my area wanting a baby. They're all capable of doing it themselves. I don't even know how I feel about the idea of having my baby so close at hand. It's a little unnerving for me to even think about. When it grows older, what will they think if their mother was so close but didn't want to care for them?

I tell Portia I'll try.

"From what I can tell from what you've told me, I'd say your due date will be sometime in the middle of May," says Portia, shifting through her notes just to make sure. "Was that what you expected?"

"Yes, something like that," I tell her.

"I understand from what your mother tells me of your situation that the father is unaware of the fact that you're pregnant," Portia continues.

I nod. "That's right."

"Do you intend to ever tell him?"

Peeta takes my hand and I'm glad for something to hold onto. "Am I obligated to?" I enquire.

"You aren't obligated to do anything," Portia answers. She plays with her pen, threading it through her fingers over and over again. I watch the pen with extreme focus, glad for a place to put my eyes. "It's more a question of morality. Since the baby is going to be put up for adoption, do you really want the father to know of its existence?"

"I don't even think he'd care," I sigh.

Portia seems to understand what I'm saying but she doesn't let the subject matter go. "I would recommend telling him," she says. "You don't have to do it immediately but it is in both your and the baby's interests. If the baby has a defect then we'd need to know the father's medical history."

She has a point. Everything she is saying makes sense and I hate her for it.

"As I've said, you don't have to do it immediately," says Portia. "It's just something to think about." She signs a prescription for some vitamins and hands it to me. "I'll see you in eight weeks, Katniss."

I nod, the numb sensation in my body feeling like it has swallowed me up completely.

 **A/N: I apologize for there not being an update for Kindred last week. It was a very busy week for me and I was lacking in inspiration for it. I'll try to get a new chapter written and posted for this Friday, as usual :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I apologize for being unable to post this yesterday. was down and wouldn't let me log in! Sorry!**

Chapter Four

"Do you think I should tell Marvel?"

My eyes are trained on the tremor in Peeta's hand as it holds the metal soup spoon. I can't look him in the eye out of fear of crumbling. I hate how much I'm putting Peeta through just by being pregnant at all. If it had been his, and we were both to blame, it may have been easier for me to deal with, but it's not and I can't.

"I don't think you should do anything you don't feel comfortable doing," Peeta answers.

Of course he'd say that. I tsk and put my face in my hand.

District 10 is definitely in the Halloween spirit. Tiny paper bats hand from the ceiling while streamers made to look like bones are slung around the diner bar and the light fixtures. Instead of your usual condiment container, there's a pumpkin that has the sauces and sugars sticking out of the hole in the top.

I stir the contents of my baked potato miserably. "What if the baby has a defect?" I ask. "What if Marvel's family has a history of skin cancer or spinal bifida? It'd be my fault then if not informing the hospital of it."

"Think of it this way," says Peeta, lowering his spoon back into his soup, "do you really think Marvel is going to argue with you if you tell him that you're going to put the baby up for adoption?"

"I can't see him being hugely opposed to it," I answer. "But I don't want him running around telling people that I'm pregnant. I don't want anyone to know until it's obvious."

"Portia _did_ say that you didn't have to tell him immediately," Peeta reminds me. "You could just wait until you're showing."

A smile tugs on my lips. I lift my eyes to meet Peeta's. "How is it that you're always right?" I ask.

Peeta shrugs. "I don't know. It must be a gift."

I laugh and shake my head. Spooning some of my potato into my mouth, the tremor in Peeta's hand catches my eye again. "Are you alright?" I ask him.

"Sure, why?" asks Peeta.

"Your hand is shaking," I say.

Peeta looks at his hand as well. He quickly shrugs it off. "Must just be some nerve endings," he says.

I look at his bowl, which is still very full. "Are you struggling?" I ask gently.

"No, it's just taking me a while to . . . uh . . . get to the next spoonful," Peeta explains to me.

I reach out with my spare hand and thread our hands together. I squeeze his tight and say, "Take as long as you need to. I will wait until the diner closes if that's what it takes."

Peeta laughs, blue eyes sparkling as they catch the light. "I doubt the waitress' would be too pleased with that," he said.

"Stuff 'em," I reply defiantly.

Peeta smiles at me and manages to get three spoonfuls into him before needing a break. The waitress comes by twice and asks if we are finished. I tell her no. To keep them from kicking us out, I order a Chocolate Nut Sundae for myself. When she drops it off, I can see her sneer as she turns away. I pull a face behind her back and make a mental note not to tip her.

"This is ridiculous, I'm holding us back," Peeta says once she's gone.

"Don't be silly," I say back, slouching in my seat and kicking my feet up onto the booth cushion. "It's her job. And it's our basic human right to stay here as long as we're paying customers. I think she's just sour because her boss made her dress up in that skeleton costume that does nothing for her figure . . ."

"I need a distraction. It might help me eat faster," Peeta tells me.

I shake my head. "You don't have to be fast, you know," I say to him.

"Katniss, if I don't eat now, I'm not going to for the rest of the night," Peeta pleads with me.

I spoon some ice cream into my mouth thoughtfully. "Did you watch last night's episode of _America's Next Top Model_?" I ask.

Peeta narrows his eyes. "Do I look like the kind of guy who watches _America's Next Top Model_?" he deadpans.

"You're missing out!" I insist. "There's this girl Beth, and she an uber bitch. She, like, shits on all the other girls in the house and is the sort of person who would expect them to clean it up for her!"

"So basically Glimmer, except on television?" says Peeta, picking his spoon up again.

I laugh. "Exactly!" I reply. I continue to explain as I chow on my sundae. "There's this girl called Treena as well. She's awful at modelling; the only reason she got through to Week Three is because her catwalk was strong and Cathleen couldn't do the Underwater Shoot because she was afraid of water. She's going to get the boot on Friday, I'm telling you."

I continue to explain the dynamics of one of my biggest guilty pleasures to Peeta as he eats his soup. I'm surprised that he's actually listening to everything I say as he clearly isn't a Top Model guy. Yet he asks questions, all of them relevant to what I'm telling him.

" . . . And Yvette is in a stupid feud with Faye because they both think they have what it takes," I explain, scraping the chocolate sauce out of the bottom of my glass. "Honestly, Tyra should just save us the agony and boot them off together. I would die of laughter if I saw a blank photograph if they were the final two!"

"Blank photograph?" Peeta repeats.

"Means they're both going home," I explain.

"And you watch this for . . . entertainment? Aren't the bitches at school enough for each day?" asks Peeta.

"Hey now," I say, pointing my spoon at him, "I'm sure you have a guilty pleasure too."

Peeta considers this, weighing up the things he'd consider entertainment, and shrugs. "I guess. Although, I don't really call them 'guilty' anything because I'm not really ashamed of what I like."

"Trust you not to have a guilty pleasure." I roll my eyes. They land on his bowl, which is now nearly completely empty. A smile grows on my face. "Hey, look! You're done!"

Peeta looks down too. "I told you I needed a distraction," he grins.

I ditch my glass and spoon, lurching across the table to give him a hug. Our dishes rattle, and people stare like we're mad, but I don't care. I am eternally thankful for every moment that Peeta finds the strength to beat his illness. I don't care where I am, I will always express my joy to him.

We fill in his food diary and get up to leave. The skeleton waitress is at the cash register, looking as bored and ungrateful as ever. I open my bag and fish around inside it for my money but when I have it in my hand, Peeta has already handed his own over to pay for both of us.

"Peeta, you don't have to"-

"Now what sort of date would I be if I didn't pay for the meal?" Peeta replies, taking my hand and putting it back into my bag, where he expects me to return my money.

"But"-I protest.

"No buts," Peeta replies. He waves at the woman with the grimace and takes my hand again, leading me out of the diner before I can protest any further. I can't help laughing, the smile on my face impossibly wide, and I look over my shoulder to make sure the scowling waitress sees how happy we are, despite the fact that she tries to overshadow people with her gloom.

~xXx~

Peeta takes me to the tree.

Back when we were studying, Peeta had asked me that instead of going to his house when Prim's scout group is at mine that we go to where he studies when it's too busy in the Bakery. I later learned that he went to this place when his family became too much for him. Well, mainly his mother. I still don't know a lot about his mother. From what I do know, however, she is a complete _b.i.t.c.h_.

We never got to go to this mystery study destination. Just like it did with our first date, everything got in the way. Peeta's illness and my suspension . . . It all became a huge muddle. After we leave the diner, Peeta takes me there. It's dark out but we don't care. My curfew isn't until eleven so we've got a good few hours left.

Peeta takes me to the meadow. As I wade through the grasses with him, I remember walking through here to reach the woods to practice with the bow with Dad. I tighten my hand around Peeta's, imaging my eight year old self with her tiny hand dwarfed in Dad's huge, calloused hand.

"Do I know this place?" I ask.

"You may," Peeta replied.

In the darkness, I can only make out Peeta's faint outline a little ahead of me, his hand never leaving mine. My blue pumps are getting slightly damp from the rain that had lingers in the grass but I'm not bothered. The night may be a little chilly but I really want to see where this study area is. He takes me further than I ever went with my father, along with the tree line until the trees faded away to nothing but open grassland.

Then I see it.

On top of a hill a small distance from where we stand, a tree stands, isolated and alone. A giant's shadow in the night gloom, the tree looms what feels like miles above us but in reality is only a yards above.

"Oh, Peeta," I whisper, moving to stand beside him. "It's beautiful."

"I come here for peace," Peeta tells me. "It's always quiet here."

"Do many people know about this place?" I ask, my voice hushed with the fear of breaking the peaceful silence around us.

"I've never encountered anyone else here," Peeta replies.

We approach the tree. Peeta helps me climb the hill, as my ballet pumps and gypsy skirt aren't really the best climbing attire. When we're at the top, the tree is so much more real. I step closer and touch the rough bark, now able to make out the gnarled wrinkles in the trunk. "Oh wow," I breathe. I tip my head back to look at the top, where the leaves are wilting in the autumn season. "How old do you think it is?"

"I don't know," says Peeta. "I wish I did, it would be interesting to know, however I'd never chop it down just find out."

"If you tried, I'd wrestle you to the ground," I answer, my fingers touching every individual mark and crease in the tree. "How did I never spot this? My dad took me out here all the time to hunt in the woods."

"Hunt?" asks Peeta.

"I say hunt, more like practice shooting arrows at trees," I explain.

I slide down to the tree roots and sit on the grass, my back against the trunk and my head tipped back against it to stare at the stars. "This is a beautiful spot, Peeta. No wonder you're a genius," I say in awe.

Peeta chuckles. "I doubt I'm a genius," he says, joining me on the grass. "There are many smarter than me . . ."

"We need to have a conversation about accepting compliments," I say lightly, scooting closer and resting my head on his shoulder. "It isn't conceited to accept a compliment. In fact, you're going to have to get very used to them if you're going to be dating me for I will be showering you in them every day!"

Peeta laughs. "Oh, really?"

"Yes," I say firmly. My hand finds his chest, over the spot where his heart is still beating. Even now I can feel his improvement. When we were still only study buddies, I could barely feel his heart against my ear when it rested on his chest. Now my hand can feel it when only my palm is pressed against him. His heart is getting stronger and stronger every day.

"Finch suggested that we meet up tomorrow," Peeta explains. "Since none of us have plans for Halloween."

"That sounds good," I reply. "What's the plan?"

"Well, I'm almost positive that Johanna will want to tepee Cashmere's house . . ." Peeta sees how I light up at the idea and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" I say defensively. "It's not like we're going to set the house on fire!"

"You're already in hot water with people like Cashmere, do you want to make it worse?" Peeta asks. He's not trying to control my actions. In fact, if I told him that I was going to do it anyway I'm sure he'd let me go ahead and do it. That doesn't mean he isn't going to try and make me see what's best first.

"What makes you think they'll catch us?" I challenge with a cheeky grin.

"The fact that you've got a broken leg and my body is the athletic equivalent of a peanut so if it comes to the point of having to run, we're both not going to go very far?" Peeta answers.

"Hey, I can run pretty far in my brace," I insist.

"But _I'm_ still a peanut," Peeta continues.

I pat his chest. "It's okay, I'll carry you."

Peeta laughs. "You're fit, Katniss, but you're not that fit," he says.

I chew the inside of my cheek in deep thought. "Okay, I'll get Finnick to carry you!" I declare.

"Katniss, I'm not getting carried by Finnick."

"Why not?" I tease. "Should I be worried?"

Peeta takes my hand and plays with my fingers. "You never know," he says. "I could get carried away tomorrow night by Finnick and discover that my sexuality lies in my gay side rather than my straight. I could decide that girls are too high maintenance."

It's my true to laugh. "I'd be known as the girl who trued Peeta Mellark gay!" I cackle.

"It's completely possible," Peeta teases.

"I guess I knew what I was getting into when I fell for a bi boy," I say. I sigh dramatically and pretend to swoon. "I just thought it would mean super-hot threesomes!" Peeta splutters and laughs as I throw myself over his lap in an overdramatic faint. "Oh the humanity!"

"I'd hate to see your reaction if you ever found out that I was gay," Peeta laughs.

I crawl my fingers up his chest and lightly slap his cheek twice. "That'll never happen," I assure. I flutter my eyelashes in an overly ridiculous fashion. "I'm too pretty to give up on!" I say in a high pitched voice.

"Keep talking in that voice and I'll be at the closest gay bar before you even know I'm gone," Peeta jokes.

I snort and sit up again, shimmying myself back so I'm sitting in his lap. "You like me, really," I say.

"Of course I do," Peeta grins, leaning forward and kissing me. I sigh into his mouth and wrap my arms around his neck, holding us together like we're two jigsaw pieces that fit together perfectly. My skirt hitches up a little as I change my position, so my knees sit on the grass at either side of his thighs. I'm not making an advance; it's just more comfortable this way.

"Peeta," I say when we break apart, "when did you know you were bi anyway?"

Peeta shrugs. "I don't know, really. I never wanted to identify as anything until I was sure and when Thom asked me out in Middle School I said yes as a means of exploration. He seemed like a nice guy, besides the obvious of course. Then, when we broke it off, I just sort of discovered on my own that I liked girls as well. I then thought that that meant that I was straight but then . . ."

"Josh Hutcherson happened?" I tease.

"No," Peeta says indignantly, although he's smiling. "There was a guy who used to come into the bakery to buy chocolate éclairs. I kind of developed a crush on him at the same time I was thinking that some of the girls-the sort who wouldn't give me the time of day-were gorgeous as well."

"Oooooh, who was this mystery man?" I ask, poking Peeta teasingly.

"I never knew his name," Peeta shrugs.

"But he was hot, right?" I say.

"Could light a fire with his fingers if he wanted to," Peeta elaborates.

I laugh and kiss him again. "Was it confusing for you?" I ask, brushing his hair back from his face so I can see his eyes properly. The moonlight made the blue shimmer like the sky on a summer's day.

"A little bit," Peeta admitted. "However, being bi has never been something I'm ashamed of. I just didn't want to come out the way Cato had done. I didn't see a point. Besides, where Cato got treated like a king-you know with the 'you're so brave's' and the 'we love you anyways!'- I probably would have gotten told to make my mind up and get on with it. Not because I'm bi-sexual but simply because I'm . . . well . . . me."

The sad truth is that Peeta is probably right. I'm ashamed to say that, when I was in my dark place as the queen of the bitches, I would probably have gossiped with everyone about how Peeta was being stupid and greedy and that he just needed to choose a team and stop making a big deal out of it. It makes me feel sick with myself to think about.

"Those assholes' acceptance means nothing," I say. "You have my support and your friends'. We're with you."

Peeta smiles. "Thank you," he says.

We kiss and spend the rest of the night by the tree. Until my curfew looms near and we're forced to return home.

 **A/N: I think that it's really important that Peeta's sexuality in this story is established. It's easily glazed over when it comes to people who are bi-sexual that because they're dating the opposite sex people think, 'Oh yeah, they're straight,' when they're not. It's one of the many issues I'd like to address in this story throughout :)**

 **Another side note: On Wattpad, my story 'It's a Jungle Out There' (the prequel to this one) has been entered into the Wattys2015 for fanfiction feels. If any of you have a twitter, it would mean a lot to me if you tweeted the link to my Wattpad version of It's a Jungle Out There with the hashtags #MyWattysChoice and #FanfictionFeels. 'Kindred' is up for the same award as well if you enjoy it more then it is possible to link that as well.**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Warning: This chapter contains a tiny bit of violence, talk of potential prostitution, blackmail, homophobic slurs and talk about anorexia that may upset some readers.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Five

It was Johanna's idea to sit across the road from Cashmere's house on Halloween night. It's a bit of a morbid idea but no one else had anything else to propose. So Finnick drives us there and we all sit in the driveway of the empty house across the road, watching people go in to party and out to vomit. The music constantly pounds from the inside, so loud that we can feel the ground vibrating beneath our feet as they linger outside. The only person not here is Clove, as she has to babysit tonight for her brother.

"I'm not trying to be rude or anything but does anyone else notice how sad we're being?" Finnick eventually asks.

"Oh yeah," Johanna replies. She sits on the roof of Finnick's car, drinking a can of beer with her feet propped up on the windshield. She's the only one who made an attempt to dress for the occasion with a headband with cat ears attached on top of her head. "However, if one of the populars come out of that house and do something embarrassing, we can film it and maybe blackmail them to join our cause."

"That's genius," Finch says.

"I try," Johanna grins.

I pull myself up onto the hood of the car and glance forlornly at the pack of beer Finnick has brought. Giving up beer for nine months will probably do me good in the long run but I've been drinking since I was sixteen years old. I'm not used to being T-total. However, I can't even if I was desperate.

"Here, Katniss, I brought this," Finnick tosses me a can with a bright blue label. I catch it and read the label.

 _ **Non-Alcoholic Beer**_

"Finnick, you're a life saver," I say, ripping the lid open and greedily drinking it. It doesn't taste the same as regular beer but something tells me that the little extra tang that comes with regular beer is caused by the alcohol in it.

"Peeta, do you want to drink anything?" Annie asks, sorting through the drinks Finnick brought on the piece of grassland beside the car.

"No, thank you, Annie," Peeta answers. "I'm fine." He hasn't been in best form today. I don't know why exactly, I think maybe he's just been overworking himself. Catching up with his schoolwork has been a priority since he returned from hospital but his strength has been posing issues for him.

"You doing okay?" I ask him.

"Yeah, I'm a-okay," Peeta replies. He looks about ready to fall asleep. I brush my hand over his forehead to push his hair back from his face. He seems completely content to be lying on the hood beside me with his eyes shut. When he doesn't speak, you would think he's sleeping.

Johanna finishes off her beer and throws it across the road, where it lands squarely in Cashmere's front garden. "That's littering, you know," I tell her.

"Who gives a flying fuck," Johanna answers, cracking open another one. "Cashmere's staff will barely notice the difference."

I smile and shake my head. It's a little spooky for me to be back at Cashmere's house. It reminds me of the party that pretty much changed everything. Where I found Peeta tied up in the bathroom with the slurs written on his forehead; how his scars were visible on his arms; how I set him free and slept with Marvel to prevent him from hurting Peeta; how I ultimately failed . . . how all of that led to where I am now. Pregnant with a child that I won't keep.

"Is Delly in there?" Finch asks Peeta.

"I don't know," Peeta honestly answers. "And to be honest, I don't care anymore. I'm sick of being chaperone to her when she obviously doesn't care. Half the time she ditches me without me realising anyway."

"Your parents won't get mad, will they?" asks Annie.

"I don't think they know," Peeta answers. "Delly has stopped saying where she's going each weekend. Makes it easier for me, really, then I don't have to get told to trail after her and make sure she doesn't end up drunk in a ditch."

"Delly getting drunk in a ditch is pretty much inevitable," Johanna snorts.

"She'd pretty much sleep with anyone when she's drunk, too," Finnick says. "I think she's slept with all the boys in the year . . ."

Annie quirks an eyebrow at him. " _Every_ boy?" she asks.

Finnick has the decency to look sheepish. "It was before I knew you!" he quickly explains. "The bitch had the gall to leave twenty bucks on my bedside table as if I was some common whore."

I pull a face. "Oh my god, that's awful," I say.

"Did you accept it?" Annie asks

Finnick shrugs. "At first I was going to give it back to her but I could never get her alone. I couldn't give it back in front of the guys, then I'd never hear the end of it. They'd be calling me the Prostitute for the rest of my school life! My past track record doesn't help . . ."

Everyone knows that Finnick has a history of being a player. However, that doesn't mean he should be called a prostitute. Or treated like one either. Nobody deserves that. Especially since the way he looks at Annie is so genuine only an idiot couldn't see how much he cares about her. I know more than anyone else that our past is completely different to our future. And just like me, Finnick has been making the effort to change.

"Finnick, are you saying you never got the twenty bucks back to Delly?" asks Peeta.

"Yes," Finnick admits, his voice tainted with shame.

"So . . . she paid you for sex?" Peeta presses.

"Dude, do you have to rub the salt in?" Finnick asks haplessly.

"I'm just thinking . . ." I look at Peeta and see the cogs turning in his mind. His eyes are still closed but I can see them moving beneath his lids, like he's thinking about something very hard. "That's how we can get Delly onto our side. Blackmail her into joining us. She can't let people know that she bought sex from Finnick-for one thing it's illegal, no matter how small or big the amount is-and it would do incredible damage to her reputation," Peeta explains.

Johanna straightens up and swirls her can around thoughtfully. "You're onto something Mellark," she says.

I lean over and kiss Peeta's cheek, making him smile to himself. "You're a genius," I tell him.

Peeta cracks an eye open, the baby blue piercing in the cold, autumnal dark. "So you say," he replies.

"You are," I say, giving him another kiss. He catches my chin and draws my lips towards his, our mouths touching just for the faintest of moments. I feel heat deep in my belly and a tug that has nothing to do with the baby that dwells inside.

"Make me barf," Johanna says sarcastically.

I sit up and flip her off jokingly. Johanna returns it with both hands, her grin reeking of cheekiness. Finch reaches up and pulls the cat ears off of Johanna's head, pulling them onto her own. The black of the ears stands out in her bright orange hair and she looks almost like what her nickname entails. A fox.

"Why are they over there?"

"Who do they think they are?"

"What are they doing?"

"I don't know but I'm going to find out."

I hear the voices across the road and when I look back at Cashmere's house, I see Cashmere, Glimmer, Gale and Cato all standing in a huddle in the driveway. They're stealing glances at us, their faces doing nothing to hide the disgust on their features. Peeta and the others notice them too and when Gale breaks away from the group and starts coming towards us, the rest of them in close follow, Finnick moves around the car to stand between us and them. Johanna jumps off the roof and joins Peeta and me by the hood.

"What the hell do you losers think you're doing here?" Gale demands as soon as he's in speaking distance. "This party isn't for freaks like you!" He's clearly drunk. The way he slurs his words makes that clear enough.

"Last I checked, we weren't at the party," Finnick answers. "The party is in Cashmere's house and we are parked on the sidewalk across the road. Free country, man."

"My father knows the man who owns this land and he can get you all jailed just for parking here!" Cashmere shouts.

I roll my eyes. That sounds very unlikely, judging by how she's leaning against Glimmer for support while still drinking a paper cup of beer. She's dressed in a ridiculous cat suit that pronounces the fact that she isn't wearing any underwear while Glimmer is dressed as an impractical nurse. Urgh, Halloween for some people is just an excuse to dress in the least amount of fabric as possible.

"You freaks are up to something, I can feel it," says Gale.

"Can you now?" Johanna asks.

"Yes, I can," Gale growls angrily. "And I don't like it. Clear off before I make you clear off!"

"You'll have to go through me before you touch any of them," Finnick snaps. "And you know that I can beat your ass into the ground, Gale. Remember what happened last season when you blamed our loss on me when it was clearly you who made us lose that game?"

Gale scowls, clearly remembering whatever went down very well. "You can't beat me and Cato now, can you?" he says. Cato breaks away from Glimmer and Cashmere and joins Gale near the sidewalk. "You'll be on your ass before you can blink."

"You sound pretty confident in that," Finnick growls, clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides.

"Finnick, be careful," Annie whispers.

"It's not like you've got much back up," Cato says. He sounds pretty sober, which is strange. Now that I think about it, I've never seen Cato drunk at parties . . .

Gale snorts. "Yeah, a bunch of girls and a tubby homo."

Peeta's head snaps up and my stomach flips. "What the fuck did you just say?!" I shout. Peeta tries to grab me but he's not quick enough. I'm off the car before he can stop me and I've pushed myself in front of Finnick so I'm staring Gale right in the eye.

"You heard me," Gale smirks, making no attempt to hide that he's trailing his eyes up and down my body. I feel Finnick's hand try to wrap around my wrist but I yank my hand away from him.

"I knew you were a dickhead, Gale, but I didn't think you were a homophobic dickhead," I hiss.

Gale laughs. "I'm not homophobic!" he cackles.

I look at Cato. "Are you seriously ok with him saying shit like that? You of all people shouldn't be happy with that!" I exclaim.

Cato shrugs. "I know what I want," he says. "I'm not some indecisive idiot who can't pick a team."

"Fuck you!" I snap and I slap Cato across the face. Gale immediately stops laughing and his face drops like a stone. Before he can even scowl I've smacked him as well. Both have red welts across their faces now and it's my turn to grin. "I may be his girlfriend but I support his sexuality because it's part of who he is and I love him for it. You want to start judging people for who they are? Look at yourselves in the fucking mirror before you turn to someone else and point the finger!"

Gale's entire face has turned pink to match the welt on his face. He growls and my heart lurches into my throat as I see him lift his hand. Oh my god, he's going to hit me back. The first thought that comes into my head is the baby and I step back, fear making me nauseous.

Then Peeta is in front of me, his arms held out to protect me from any blow that may come.

"I don't care how big you think you are, Gale, but if you lift your hand against a girl for no reason other than self-satisfaction then you are a poor excuse for a human being," Peeta says calmly.

"And you think your opinion means anything to me, Fatboy?" Gale snaps back.

I feel Peeta flinch at the 'f' word but he holds his ground none the less. "Insult me all you want. Even hit me if that makes you feel better but don't you _dare_ hurt my friends."

"Or what?" Cato asks. "What can a pathetic streak of nothing like you do?"

"Nothing," Peeta answers. I'm clinging to the back of his shirt, my hands balled into fists as if my holding onto him will protect him from these pathetic excuses for people. "Absolutely nothing. I will not stand idly by, however, as you raise your hand against my girlfriend and potentially the people I care about."

"You'd probably have a heart attack before you could throw even one punch," Gale scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Never mind that, he can't even hang onto his nickname," Cato says. Peeta and Cato exchange a look and I see the bigger boy quirk an amused eyebrow. "Fatboy isn't fat anymore because he's been starving himself, hasn't he?"

Gale looks at Cato in surprise. "Seriously?"

Cato nods.

Gale starts to laugh. Disgust rises within me and I try to push in front of Peeta again. Except I can't because for some reason when Peeta wants to, he can be extremely strong. The effort is making him tremble and I begin to worry about his heart. Finnick is being held back by Annie and Johanna is being physically restrained by Finch. It's only us now.

"You pathetic bastard," Gale laughs. "You actually stopped _eating?_ "

Peeta says nothing. He simply holds me behind him like a protective shield.

"I've lost my punching bag," Gale says, sounding genuinely depressed. "I can't punch the kid if I'm going to crack a rib. You can go to jail for that sort of shit . . ."

"Never stopped you before," I snap angrily.

Gale shrugs. "What can I say? I'm generous." He winks at me and I scowl again. "I'm also curious. Has Fatboy Mellark turned into Skeletor?"

"From what I remember, yes," Cato answers. He turns his nose up. "Wasn't very pretty."

"Didn't stop you from propositioning me," Peeta says, his calm façade tinted with anger and fear. I understand both emotions because I'm also feeling them both. "While you're revealing secrets why don't you tell Gale how you found out about me? Does he even know the truth of what happened at Snow's Mansion?"

Cato only looks angry for a millisecond before resuming a calm front. "I wanted to have sex with you," he answers.

"What?" Gale asks incredulously.

"I was drunk and needed a fuck," Cato explains. "As you know there aren't many people on my metaphorical team around here." He looks down his nose at Peeta and me and scoffs. "Closest thing I could find. Even if he is a poser."

"Poser?" I repeat slowly.

Cato nods. "Bi sexual is just what people who want more than they can have say they are. You're with a girl, for Christ's sake, you're obviously straight."

"Think whatever you want to think, Cato," Peeta answers. "Your opinion doesn't matter to me in the slightest."

"You watch your back, Mellark," Cato snaps. "Or someday I might make you regret ever blackmailing me in the first place. Nobody tries to get the better of me and gets away with it. You want to continue your stupid bi sexual act? Fine, go ahead. Maybe someday I'll show you what it's truly like to be like me and you'll realize how much of a fucking poser you are."

"Is that a threat?" I spit.

Cato's eyes practically sparkle with malice. "Of course."

We're so caught up in talking to Cato that we don't see Gale lift his hand again. His fist makes contact with Peeta's stomach as soon as the final word is out of Cato's mouth. I scream in surprise and stumble backwards, grabbing Peeta's arms and drawing him towards me quickly to assess the damage.

"Oh my god, sweetheart, are you okay?" I ask, bringing him down to kneel on the sidewalk so he can bend over and get his breath back.

"I'm fine, it's okay," Peeta assures me. He winces and puts his hand on the sidewalk, breathing in and out slowly to get back the air the blow stole from his lungs.

"Why can't you just fuck off and leave us alone?" I scream at Cato and Gale. My frustration is making the girls across the road laugh hysterically. _Them two_ I could easily fight.

Finch stumbles over to us and throws herself by Peeta's side. She examines him carefully and quietly informs us that nothing is broken or swollen or damaged. Cato and Gale stand over us like overbearing giants. I feel very small beneath their harsh gazes and cling to Peeta like my life depends on it. It's not like it was before. I can't just lash out angrily. I'm protecting two people now. Peeta and the baby. I don't care as much for myself but in protecting the baby I must also ensure my own safety.

"So who do you want us to beat up first? The whore or her anorexic boyfriend?" Gale asks rhetorically.

"Gale, come on, you've already had your sick fill," Finnick says. "Just leave!"

"You're right, I thought the whore too," Gale says. He approaches me maliciously, a sick grin on his face. I panic, thinking about the baby and nothing but. Peeta puts himself between me and Gale, hugging me tight from in front of me. This small action captures the bully's attention and he laughs. "Fuck me, you two must really care about each other don't you?"

When he grabs Peeta and drags him to his feet, I scramble up as well. When I try and put myself between them, like Peeta did for me, Finnick pulls me back. I try to hit out at him but he hisses quietly, "Think of your baby."

I go limp in Finnick's arms and hang my head. There's nothing I can do.

"Where do you want to be hit first then, Mellark?" Gale asks, letting Peeta go to crack his knuckles in preparation. "I doubt it would be the face, since there's _so_ many people you wish to attract."

"Don't touch him!" I scream helplessly.

"I don't know, Gale, why don't you take your pick?" Peeta says, already resigned to his fate.

Gale laughs and grabs the front of his shirt, bunching it up so much that everyone can see a large strip of Peeta's frail body. The sight of this, and the way Gale notices and actually has the gall to snort in amusement, is too much for me. I break down in Finnick's hold, sobbing uncontrollably because I don't want to see this. I don't want to see Peeta hurt.

As Gale lifts his fist, Glimmer suddenly appears. She whispers something in his ear that causes Gale to stop. He lets go of Peeta and pushes him away. I run to him quickly and wrap my arms around him tight, squeezing him as tight as I can and crying into his shirt. Peeta hugs me back, his face buried in my hair as he tries to level out his breathing.

Gale and Cato leave without another word. They return to Cashmere's garden, where Glimmer and Gale plop onto the seat on the porch and start making out. Cato leans against Cashmere's car and takes a swig of beer while Cashmere herself returns to the house. What the hell was that about?

"This was my fault," says Johanna. "We should never have come."

"Are you alright, Peeta?" Annie asks.

Peeta gives the others a thumbs up, even though he can't speak because he's so worked up. I hold him close to me and try to talk myself down from my panic so that I can help him. When it works relatively well, I lean back and cup his face in my hands, pressing our foreheads together. "It's okay. You're okay," I tell him gently.

"I know," Peeta whispers back.

I kiss him softly, taking a moment just to feel him against me. My hand instinctively goes to his chest, to rest over his breastplate where I feel his heart beating so fast it makes my own break because he was so scared just now.

"Ignore those douchebags," Finnick says. "They think they're hard just because they can throw a couple of punches."

"I can't believe that Gale was going to hit you, Katniss," Finch says.

I shrug. "I can."

"It's because he's jealous," Johanna mutters. "It's clear he still wants to fuck you, Katniss. They never would have picked a fight out of nothing until now. I think envy is the main contributor here."

I can only hope that Johanna is wrong.

~xXx~

When I explain to my mother what happened, she allows Peeta and I to stay in my room together. She administers some pain killers for Peeta to take and I let him lie down on my bed for a while. He doesn't sleep and neither do I. I have his head in my lap and my fingers stroke his facial features softly. I want to commit his face to memory. So I know every slope and curve like the back of my own hand.

"How does your stomach feel?" I ask him.

"Hurts," Peeta smiles softly. "I don't think anything's broken though."

My hand smooths down the buttons of his shirt. "Can I check?" I ask.

Peeta nods. When I lean over to unbutton his shirt, however, he grabs my wrist and says, "Cato was right. It's not pretty," he says.

"Cato's a douchebag and a liar," I correct him.

I kiss his forehead and slip the buttons out of their holes. The fabric falls apart and I am given the full view of what the anorexia has done to Peeta. I only ever saw this once. When Mr. Abernathy had to get Peeta's heart started again. It's relatively better than it had been since then, however I can still make out the ridges of Peeta's ribcage beneath his skin. There's a smattering of brown bruising where Gale hit him but thankfully nothing too severe.

I move to the end of the bed and pass my hand over the bruises. "How does that feel? Okay? Not the way it did when your ribs were broken?" I ask.

"Trust me, if my ribs were broken, I'd be roaring the house down," Peeta answers with a smile.

I press my lips against the bruises, letting them linger there like they have healing powers that will make the pain go away. Peeta sucks in, not having expected it, but doesn't stop me when I trail my lips up along the ridges of his ribs. I do this on both sides, pressing a kiss against each rib lovingly. Cato was wrong. Peeta is beautiful the way he is and he shall be even better once he's completely cured. There's a part of me that desperately wants to show him this, mixed in with that carnal part of myself that strongly desires to have my mouth all over his body and to have his all over mine. I press my kisses up the middle of his torso and chest, until our faces are hovering close to each other's.

"I wish I could show you want I see when I look at you," I say quietly.

Peeta cups my face. "I wish I could too," he whispers. "Your eyes are always shining with adoration for something I can't see. Something I might never see."

"I will help you see," I say, leaning my face close to his.

When our lips connect, my heart does somersaults in my chest. I touch his hand, which still rests against my face, and practically crush my body against his. Peeta's lips are soft and gentle against mine, his tongue requesting entrance instead of demanding it. I let him in, my fingers finding his hair as I moan and allow our tongues to touch and stroke each other.

Air becomes necessary and we break apart. I let my face fall to Peeta's neck, where I kiss and bite at the skin I know is sensitive. Peeta shudders against me and moans gently, his hands finding my back and pulling me closer against him. My own hands touch his chest and stomach, feeling the bony expanse beneath me as gently as I can manage.

I'm surprised when Peeta turns us around and I'm lying on my back. I don't complain however and groan in delight as his mouth finds my neck and collarbone. My legs wind around his subconsciously, my hands have minds of their own now. We've never gotten this far before and it's exciting and amazing and so hot my brain can barely keep up with the sensations its being bombarded with.

My hand grabs Peeta's and before I've really thought about it, I've put it on top of my chest. I know Peeta will need incentives like this because he'll never overstep a boundary without making sure I'm okay with it. He looks at me in confusion and I nod, tightening my hand over his so that the pressure on my breast is increased. I moan and connect our lips again, pulling him down against me so we're simply making out again, with his hand trying out massaging my boob for the first time. His touch gives me shivers and I push my body up against his, my lips desperately mapping out his.

It's when one of my wandering hands goes too far that it ends. I don't realize I've done it until Peeta yelps in surprise and rolls away from me quickly. He sits up at the edge of the bed, trembling with his shirt hanging off his arms.

"I'm sorry!" I blurt out. "Are you okay?"

"Katniss, don't apologize," Peeta insists. "It's my fault."

I hug him from behind and press my face against his warm back. "I went too fast," I say. "You need to tell me when you're ready. I shouldn't have pushed it on you."

"You didn't push anything on me. I did it willingly," Peeta denied. "It was just when you . . . you . . ."

I sigh. "Grabbed your ass?" I ask.

Peeta's breath hitches and I smile against his skin. His innocence is adorable. "Yes . . . When you did that I just sort of . . . freaked out."

"I understand," I reply, nuzzling my face against his back lovingly. "You're a delicate flower, I get it."

Peeta snorts. "Delicate flower," he repeats incredulously. He shakes his head and joins our hands together. "Besides, there's your mother to think about . . ."

This makes me laugh. "You're worried about upsetting my mother?" I chuckle.

"I need to make a good impression!" Peeta insists. "Your mother is a lovely woman, I don't want her thinking I'm a hooligan or a . . . a misfit who's going to lead you astray!"

I can't help it. This makes me laugh harder. "Peeta, if any of the two of us is going to lead the other astray then I will be the one doing the leading. I think your parents should be more worried about you than mine should be worried about me. My mum knows that you're a beacon of goodness. I think she's hoping you're going to rub off on me more. You already have, after all."

Peeta turns around so we're looking each other in the eye. "I hope you mean metaphorically because I think we've done enough physical 'rubbing' for the night."

"Oh, I don't know," I tease, "maybe I'm just getting started."

"Well if that's you getting started I'd hate to go the whole way with you. You'd have me beat," Peeta laughs.

"In a good way," I insist.

"Of course in a good way," Peeta smiles.

When we settle at the top of my bed, under the blanket with me snuggled into Peeta's side with the television on, I know everything will be okay. As long as he's in my life, nothing will ever bring me down.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Peeta, Finnick and I go to Delly Cartwright's house Sunday afternoon. Finch couldn't come along because she has a cello lesson, Clove is still stuck with the kids from last night and Annie didn't want to come along for personal reasons. We decided it would be best if Johanna stayed at home as well because brute force isn't going to get us anywhere. This situation is delicate and Delly is an extremely stubborn girl. If we start yelling and threatening her, who knows how she will react.

I think it's better this way. Peeta knows Delly from when they were younger, Finnick is our evidence and I'm . . . well, I guess I'm just here. Once upon a time, Delly and I used to party like animals when we were at parties together. I'm a little weary, however, because I know that Peeta and Delly were once close as well. As soon as that went down the drain, however, Delly didn't want to look at him twice.

The Cartwright home is surprisingly modest. I'm not sure what I expected. Maybe something grandeur, like the houses in Cashmere's estate. Not a quiet neighbourhood with rows of houses that all look similar to each other. I don't know what made me think that Delly's family was wealthy. It wasn't because she was popular. I was popular too but my mum's income is fairly normal. Maybe I just had an image in my mind of what Delly's life was like from what I knew of her party self. What the truth is certainly doesn't match my expectations.

Delly is sitting in the garden, with a patchwork sunhat on her head. At first I don't recognize her. Probably because she's got dirt on her hands and seems to be actually doing physical labour. I didn't take her for the gardening type. It's not even that warm out. She must be doing what she can before the cold weather really sets in.

We don't invite ourselves into the garden. Not when we're about to blackmail her. I don't feel guilty for what we're about to do but I don't feel enormously proud of it either. Delly sees our shadows before she sees us, Finnick's dwarfing both myself and Peeta's. Her head snaps up and she glares at the three of us angrily.

"What are you doing here?" she asks pointedly.

"Delly," Peeta says, "we're not here to cause trouble."

"Why should I believe that?" Delly says, standing up, immediately on defence.

"Do we really look like the trouble-causing sort?" Finnick asks honestly.

Delly eyes us wearily. "Maybe not your sidekicks but I'm not entirely sure about you, Finnick," she replies.

Finnick digs his hand into his jeans pocket and produces what he has kept who knows how long. He holds it in his hand so Delly can see it but not in offering, just display. "Do we have your attention?" he asks.

"What's that then?" Delly demands, squinting to get a better look at the money in Finnick's hand.

Peeta hands Finnick the piece of paper we printed out before arriving here. Finnick unfolds it and reads out, " 'Prostitution is illegal in the United States with the exception of 11 Nevada counties. On Nov. 3, 2009, Rhode Island closed a legal loophole that had allowed indoor prostitution to exist since 1980.'" Finnick cringes away from the 'p' word but continues. " 'The highest form of punishment for a customer is two years in prison with fines that range from 1,000 to 10,000 dollars.'"

"What are you blathering about?" Delly exclaims incredulously.

"This is the twenty dollars you left on my bedside table after we slept together in Middle School," Finnick says measuredly. "If you listen to us and agree to help, I won't say anything about it. If you don't, I'll talk."

Delly tears off her gardening gloves and throws them down onto the grass, enraged. "That was Middle School!" she shouts. "Why the hell do you still have that?!"

"Because I'm not a prostitute!" Finnick exclaims. "But you still threw money at me like I was. Now, you're going to make up for how trashy you made me feel that day."

"You really hold that huge of a grudge?" Delly demands. "Really?"

"I would," I say. "It's not like you stole his sandwich or beat him in a race. You treated him"-

"The way you've been treating people since Elementary, the way their reputation dictates," Delly interrupts.

"I know what I've done, Delly, but I can admit to you and everyone else who asks that it was wrong and I can prove that I've changed," I fire back. "The proof is right in front of you!" I lift my hand, which is intertwined with Peeta's, to prove my point. "You can't say that about yourself. You've still got rot inside you."

Delly tries to snatch the money off of Finnick but he's too fast for her, putting it back into his pocket where she can't reach it. "What do you want then?" she says. "Money? Because despite what people think, I'm not rolling in it. I could maybe get my brother to buy some alcohol for you but that's really as much as I can offer."

"We don't want that," Finnick says.

"Then what? Because I don't have anything!" Delly yells.

Finnick and I look to Peeta, who has always had a better way of wording things than the rest of us. "We want your social standing," Peeta says.

"My what?" Delly frowns, folding her arms tight in front of her. "I can't just throw my reputation at you so you'll catch it like some sort of cold, that's not how it works!"

"We want to use the power that your reputation can have," Peeta continues, undeterred by her yelling. "To get more people onto our side."

"Your side? If you haven't noticed, Peeta, there's more people on my side than yours. Why would anyone suddenly decide to hang around with your bony ass and the rest of those freaks you call friends? And why do you want all these things now? It's senior year, hardly the time to be trying to climb back up the social mountain." Delly speaks to Peeta differently from the way she spoke to myself and Finnick. She's gentler, with less venom.

"It's nothing to do with the social pecking order," Peeta explains. "We want to overwhelm Principal Snow. Push him off his pedestal and save our school before we leave. If we don't, then it will always be corrupt. More people like myself and my friends will come along and more of us will get hurt. More people like Katniss will be blinded and corrupted."

Delly shakes her head, her plait coming loose from its elastic. "You're making Snow sound like a dictator," she says.

"He certainly behaves like one," I say.

Delly shoots me an acidic look, like I don't have the right to be speaking right now. Peeta speaks again, and she pries her gaze from me to return it to him. "Are you saying that there was never a time when Principal Snow treated you unfairly? You aren't a cheerleader or a football player. Your high standing comes from your social skills and ability to bring alcohol to parties. Surely, even if it was something seemingly small, there's even one occasion that has made you rethink Snow's position of authority?"

Delly's blue eyes darken, like she has been reminded of something disturbing. She shakes her head in denial and quickly picks up her gardening gloves. "I'm not discussing this with you idiots," she mutters.

Peeta grabs her arm before she can leave and looks at her with a searching gaze. "Please think about it," he says.

Delly yanks her arm away but nods. It's small and unnoticeable to the untrained eye but I spot it. She whirls around and barges into her house, slamming the door behind her just as the sky above us grumbles unhappily.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Finnick says, handing Peeta back the piece of paper as we head off back up the road.

"I don't know," Peeta says, folding the paper up and sliding it into his pocket. He's walking with a small limp, his stomach still hurting from Gale's abuse last night. "I think we may have gotten through to her."

"Do you really think so?" I frown.

Peeta nods. "Delly has always been a salvageable soul. She just needs the right prompting," he says.

"What makes you think that?" I ask, crinkling my nose uncertainly. "She stole your boyfriend, after all. Has she ever even apologized for that?"

Peeta touches his sore side, almost thoughtfully. "Delly has known that I had been starving myself," he answers. "She never said anything because she knew I didn't want anyone to know. If she really is as terrible as people think, wouldn't she have told Cashmere and Glimmer and the rest of her popular friends so they could have the little field day that Gale had yesterday?"

"Cato didn't say anything," Finnick says.

Peeta shakes his head. "Because I blackmailed him. Delly never spoke to me about it, however she still held her silence well."

I shake my head. "I can't help it, I still don't trust her," I say.

Peeta shrugs, resigned to this. "I understand," he says. "I can't tell you how to think. If Delly does come to us-which I think she will-saying that she will fight with us, you can't hold things against her. I know it will be hard, especially for you Finnick, but treating her with hostility will just drive her away from us and our cause."

"Easy for you to say, she didn't pay you for sex and make you feel like shit," Finnick mutters despondently.

"She did, however, have an affair with a boy I had been dating," Peeta reminds Finnick. "I told Thom a lot about myself and I don't entertain the fact that he didn't tell Delly any of it. Yet, somehow, all of it has still remained under wraps. Thom moved away but Delly stayed here. She may be difficult, and trust me I know she can be very, very difficult, but she's salvageable."

"If she could bring herself to apologize, maybe recognize what she has done, I'll consider it," I tell him.

"Me too," Finnick reluctantly sighs.

"Well, I can't tell her to do anything," says Peeta. "I have faith in her to do the right thing."

Sometimes I worry that Peeta's faith is too easily placed.

~xXx~

Madge is easily found. There are always three places where she could be: at home, at school or at the dance studio. It used to be that she could be found at Gale's house but that no longer fits for obvious reasons. Peeta and Finnick part ways with me so I can talk to her alone. Madge is still hurting right now. Her parents are dying and her ex-boyfriend had been cheating on her for who knows how long. We don't want to overwhelm her. I had wanted Peeta to go, because he can talk to people better than anyone, but he insisted that Madge needed a girl to speak to. He also said some techni-babble about women's natural instincts to protect other women and that's why it has to be me to speak to her and not him.

I pass through the reception area and climb the stairs to the top floor, where Madge practices her dancing each afternoon. I have to pause at the top of each staircase, regretting half way up not using the elevator. I huff and puff my way to the top and take a moment to gather my wits.

There's a line of doors along one corridor. I peek through each until I see her sitting on her own through the middle door's window. I push through, feeling like an intruder already, and make myself known by clearing my throat.

"Why are you here, Katniss?" Madge asks. The room is empty besides myself and Madge. She's sitting on the wooden floor, her legs sitting in a long line in front and behind her. As head cheerleader, I used to be fantastic at the splits. Glancing forlornly at my broken leg, I wonder if I could still do it now.

"I just want to talk," I answer.

"Nobody ever visits me here," Madge replies instantly. Her back is to me, her face shrouded by a curtain of golden waves.

I don't know what to say to her. I step closer, my palms sweating viciously, and say, "That's a good split. You could try out for the team again."

Madge scoffs. "Yeah, right," she says. "After my break up with Gale? Snow won't give me the time of day."

Madge used to be on the Cheerleading Squad back in Junior Year. She was pretty good too. I would say she was probably my only competition when it came to becoming Head Cheerleader (maybe another reason why I despised her so much when I was an asshole, as well as the whole Gale situation). However, when her parents fell ill and she had to go back and forth from Panem to Spain, she just couldn't keep it up. She was able to catch up on her studies, but it's different with cheerleading. It takes you to be there for every practice. Every one or none at all.

"That's actually what I came here to talk to you about," I say, putting my handbag on a table against the wall and sitting down on the floor beside her.

"What? Gale?" The disgust in Madge's tone is evident. "I thought you were dating Peeta now?"

"I am," I reply. "It's nothing to do with Gale."

Madge shakes her hair back from her face and looks me in the eye. "Then what?" she asks.

"We're going to revolt," I say, my voice low. "Against the system. Against Snow. But we need stronger numbers, more people on our side."

"You're revolting against the system," Madge says flatly. "Are you high?"

"No, of course not!" I hiss. "I'm deadly serious."

"Why now?" asks Madge. "Oh yeah, that's right, because you finally realized what it's like to be overlooked by Snow. I can't say I can see your other self being as willing to uprise. Then again, I'm sure you'd have had something to say if he'd banned make-up or told you that you couldn't wear your skirt so short to class. But it's Snow, so of course he wouldn't have."

"I know you're upset, Madge," I say measuredly. "You have every right to be. But we need as many people as we can get. And I know you aren't Snow's number one fan. I know you have a lot on your plate but please join us. We need you."

Madge's eyes are distant. I know she's thinking of her parents. She's always thinking about her parents. Understandably so, too. She shakes her head. "I can't. I'll be leaving for Spain again in the middle of December. I don't know when I'll be back. I won't be of any use to you."

"You'll be of every use to us," I say firmly. "Even your support would be enough."

Madge swings her leg around so that she can sit back on her butt without causing herself injury. She props her elbow up on her knee and pushes her fingers through her hair. "I heard about last night," she says. "Word of Gale beating Peeta has spread like wildfire, like most things do. I'm sure it wasn't as magnificent as the prick has tried to make it sound." She tugs at her black leggings in a fidgeting manner and asks, "Is Peeta alright?"

"Bruised but ok. He's a survivor," I say.

Madge nods. "That, I know," she says. "I have a huge amount of respect for him, and the other supposed 'Loser's End' dwellers. My previous hatred for them had always been derived from my jealousy of their freedom."

"Freedom?" I echo.

"They aren't afraid to be who they want to be," Madge says. "They don't care about who will judge them for it or who will treat them differently. They be who they are. Nothing more, nothing less."

I pick at the Velcro from the brace on my leg. "Who do you want to be, Madge?" I ask her.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Madge mutters.

"You'd be surprised how open I've become since I've reformed," I tell her.

Madge puts her face between her knees and closes her eyes. "Why does school have to be so hard?" she asks me, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because it's school," I sigh. I reach out hesitantly and rub her back comfortingly. "Anyone who says that their high school experience was completely smooth sailing from start to finish is a liar. Either that or they've been blind to the corruption like Glimmer and Cashmere."

"They aren't blind to it," Madge denies. "They just don't care because they're on the right side of it." She looks at me again and sighs. "I just want to get through this final year, Katniss. I don't want to cause any trouble. I can't get involved in anything else remotely troublesome."

"Even if it meant maybe getting back at Gale?" I say.

Madge shakes her head. "I don't want to get back at anyone. I want to pass through Senior year in peace," she says firmly. "If I get involved in something of this size, I'm going to snap like a twig. Too much stress. Too much stress."

I nod in understanding. "I get that," I tell her. "At least promise me that you'll consider it. Think on it for a little bit? You know where you can find us if you change your mind."

"I don't think I will but okay," Madge mutters. I know that I won't get any further with her. It's annoying but I don't want to get mad and start yelling at her. That won't achieve anything.

When I leave the dance studio, I don't know whether to feel like we've made progress or have simply stayed still.

 **A/N: I'm in college until late in the afternoon on Tuesdays so updates may come a little later in the day than usual from now on :P**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm on twitter now guys! Follow me at BBerrychills94 for writing updates, tips, news and other random bits. Later on I'll be posting a sneak peek of my upcoming Everlark three-shot if I get a few more followers. If you let me know that you're a reader from fanfiction . net then I will follow you back, no question! :-)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Seven

The Halloween break was uneventful. After the fight at Cashmere's party and the fruitless attempt to get Madge and Delly on our sides, nothing else happened. Prim had a blast at her party and gushed all of Sunday night about how hilarious Rory's costume was and how much of a hit it made him at the bash. At least she had fun. With each day, I'm beginning to feel the baby inside of me more and more. It makes the fact that I'm pregnant become even more real and that terrifies me.

I lumber to school on Monday morning, laboured with the task of getting Miss Trinket onto our team. I have to do it because I get Miss Trinket for my one on one yoga sessions in replacement of P.E. The others have to loosen up Mr Abernathy, which I doubt will be that difficult since he clearly hates the system as much as we do.

Before this, Annie wants us to meet up in the school yard. She's been working all week to follow that lead she had been talking about and thinks she has finally gotten somewhere with it. I'm curious about this mysterious lead. What it means for our quest and whether it will help us or hinder us. Where Annie's concerned, I have faith that it will help us. Hopefully, anyway. I don't want to lose spirit already but after the conversations with Delly and Madge, it's already beginning to dwindle.

Johanna, Peeta and Finnick are already waiting when I arrive. We agreed to meet at the playpark for the Elementary kids as nobody from our year would be caught dead there. Unless it was past midnight and a joint was being passed around. Johanna is sitting on top of the jungle gym, perched precariously on one of the bars with her legs dangling down below. As I near, I hear her ranting.

"I mean really? Does he really think I give a toss?!" she exclaims. "Fucking hell I'm barely on there anyway!"

"Barely on where?" I ask, stopping in front of the green jungle gym and staring up at Johanna.

"Gale and his pack of dumbass bimbos thought it would be funny to write shit about me on Facebook," Johanna explains. "So they've basically demoted themselves to pretty much the most fucking childish thing you can possibly do to try to hurt someone."

"Are you okay? What sort of stuff did they say?" I ask.

"Oh I'm fucking fine. I don't care what they write about me on those stupid sites. I mean, all those social media sites are is a hot bed for assholes like those to behave like they're smart," Johanna rambles.

"This is ridiculous," Finnick says, shaking his head. "They're getting worse. Is it because it's the final year? Are they trying to get the most of their . . . assholey-ness?"

"That is not a word," Johanna says flatly, rolling her eyes. "But it's true. Either that or Gale's jealously is reaching a dangerous boiling point."

My stomach flips. If that's true, then Gale's worsening behaviour is my fault. I lean against the side of the jungle gym and drop my bag down by my feet. "Maybe we could speak to Mrs Lyme, see if she can do something about the cyber bullying. Dealing with them in person is one thing but the web is too wide a spectrum to handle," I say.

"What's the point?" Johanna declares. "If they get in trouble by Mrs Lyme, it will be taken to Principal Snow and just get wiped from the records."

"Maybe Mrs Lyme will join our cause?" Finnick suggests. "She's clearly not happy with how focused Snow is on the sports, hence why she rewarded you guys at the P2P ceremony."

"I feel like she's too committed to the system," says Johanna.

Finch and Clove arrive together, joining the conversation and throwing in their opinions. We all agree that Mrs Lyme is too loyal to the rules and to Snow, despite her upset over Snow's treatment of the students. Clove apologies for being absent for our past few meetings. She's been obligated to care for her sister's children and hasn't been able to get out of it.

"Finnick, do you have any idea about what Annie is planning?" Finch asks.

"No clue," says Finnick, shaking his head. "She's been keeping it very hush hush, even to me."

"It must be very important if"- Clove stops as we see Annie hurrying towards us. She's carrying a couple of files with lots of papers sticking out of her arms. "Speak of the devil, she's here."

"So clever clogs, what's the sitch?" Johanna asks as Annie stops beside us.

"I've been researching all week," Annie pants, kneeling down in the sand and spreading her files out. "And I think I've got what I've been looking for."

"And that is?"

Annie produces a photograph. The woman in it is quite old with straight, shoulder length grey hair. She looks extremely stern and even just looking at her makes me feel uncomfortable. "This is Alma Coin. She is the big cheese at the Education Board."

"I thought we decided against going to the Education Board?" asks Finnick.

Annie shakes her head. "We're not going to the Board, we're just going to Alma."

"Why's that?" asks Finch.

"Because she was in school with Principal Snow. They trained to be teachers together. She knows of Snow's corruption and has been privately working to find a way to give him the sack ever since she became head of the Board," Annie explains.

"If she's head of the Board, how hasn't she been able to fire him?" Clove frowns.

"It's not that easy," Annie says. "She needs evidence."

I straighten. "Us," I say.

Annie grins and winks. "Exactly."

"Oh, Annie, that's brilliant!" Finnick says. He sits down sides her and gives her a one armed hug. "How did you hear of Alma Coin?"

"I saw an article about her in the newspaper," Annie explains. "That's why I was unsure when we held that meeting before Halloween. I had to be sure before I said anything." Finnick kisses her cheek and she giggles. "How did you get on with Delly and Madge?"

"Sadly, we had no luck," I say. "Madge doesn't want to be part of anything that resembles trouble and Delly is going to think about it but I wouldn't hold out on it." I expect Peeta to disagree with me and add in his own personal beliefs about Delly but instead he remains quiet. I glance over in his direction and see that he's practically asleep. "Hey sleepy head," I say, nudging him with the toe of my shoe. "Wakey wakey."

"I'm listening," Peeta mumbles. His voice is a little distorted because his fist is pressing into the side of his face.

Johanna glances at her watch. "We better be getting to class." She slides her body through the hole her feet dangled through and jumps down from the jungle gym. "You guys coming?"

"We'll catch up," I say, sliding down to sit beside Peeta on the curb. When the others go to class, I stretch my legs out in front of me and drag my bag closer to me. "Didn't sleep well?" I ask.

Peeta shakes his head. I lean closer and realize that he's breathing heavily. "Sit up," I order. Peeta reluctantly does as I tell him to and I place my hands on his back and chest. Each breath seems to be causing him extreme difficulty. His chest is heaving each time and I can barely feel his heart beat. I used to be able to but it seems to have gotten slower and there's less beats than normal.

"Just having a . . . bad . . . day," Peeta wheezes.

"You have to go to the doctor, Peeta. This isn't good," I say.

"It's only today, I'm fine," Peeta replies. "That's why I'm tired. I didn't sleep all that well."

"You've been like this since last night?" I exclaim. "You have to go the doctor. What are you eating? Can I see your diary? Where is it?"

"I left it at home," Peeta says flippantly.

I don't know why but Peeta saying this makes me feel sick. Peeta never forgets his diary. He always shows it to me. This makes me worry because why now? Why when his breathing is beginning to go up the left has he forgotten his food diary at home?

"You are eating, aren't you?" I ask.

"Of course," Peeta replies instantly, his voice tinged with annoyance. He kisses my cheek and hauls himself to his feet, shrugging his satchel on. "I'm going to head to class. I'll talk to Mr Abernathy with Finch and Johanna."

"We're going to have to talk about this," I say, standing up as well. "You can't just walk away from your health!"

Peeta simply responds with a thumbs up and walks away from me without another word. I kick the jungle gym and grab my bag. Whether Peeta likes it or not we're going to have to talk about this. If he's struggling to breathe again then that means that something's up. If I find out that he's not eating again then it will destroy me.

I guess I'll just have to work harder to help him.

~xXx~

"How are you feeling, Katniss?"

"Loaded," I answer.

Miss Trinket laughs. We're sitting across from each other on the gym floor, my legs shoulder length apart and stretched out in front of me. I'm growing to be glad for Miss Trinket's help. Without her offering to do these yoga classes with me, suspicion would grow as to why I'm not doing P.E. My leg could be a good excuse but I've already proved myself to be able to run now that it's in a brace so that would simply flop.

"How did your appointment with the midwife go?" Miss Trinket asks. She's wearing an elaborate pink wig that is piled up on top of her head in a fancy bun. It's no secret that Miss Trinket's hair isn't natural. In fact, many debate and place bets on what her natural hair colour is. I personally think that she's blonde. She just looks like a blonde.

I shrug. "So-so. I got prescribed all the vitamins and stuff and got a scan booked. We also had a discussion about Marvel and adoption options."

Miss Trinket's eyes widen a little bit. "So you aren't keeping the baby?" she asks.

"Why, do you think I should?" I frown.

My form teacher shakes her head, previous shock quickly displaced. "It's not my place to tell you that you should or shouldn't do anything. It's your body and your decision on what to do with the baby that you're carrying," she quickly explains. "My opinion and anyone else's shouldn't mean anything."

"What is your opinion?" I press.

Miss Trinket shrugs. "Do what you think is right," she answers before instructing me to touch my toes. I do this with ease, only feeling the tiniest of pressures. "There are many people out there who would die for a child to raise but just can't do it due to fertility problems. You could help them out so much, Katniss. Even if it doesn't feel like the good thing to do in terms of morale, adoption is still a beautiful gift you can give to a . . . a . . . struggling couple."

The passion in which Miss Trinket says this with is unexpected. I wonder if she knows of someone struggling to conceive. "I've been told to keep an eye out for someone in the local area who may want to have my baby," I explain. "If they're close then I can visit when I want and still be involved in the child's life."

"Is that so?" says Miss Trinket.

I nod. "Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Again, it's not really my place to say," my teacher shrugs. She's not being awfully helpful, I have to say. I'm told to lie down on my back and lift my left leg up as far as I can and then do the same for the right. As I do so, Miss Trinket says, "You say you talked about Marvel. Are you going to tell him about the baby?"

"I don't know," I tell her. "Marvel doesn't seem like the sort of person to have natural fatherly instincts. He won't protest to giving the baby away, I know this. But he's not exactly the best apple in the orchard. I don't trust him not to tell people and I'm not ready for the repercussions."

"You're worried about slut shaming, aren't you?" Miss Trinket asks.

"Wouldn't you be?" I reply.

"Of course," my teacher answers. "I just want you to consider the repercussions for other people. If the others don't find out that Marvel is the father-which I'm not saying they have a right to know at all-who is the next person they will immediately think of once your bump begins to show?"

I drop my leg and struggle to sit up straight. "Peeta," I say, horrified at the very idea.

Miss Trinket nods, not at all pleased with this knowledge herself. "It's not a nice thing to think about but since he's your boyfriend, Peeta is obviously the next candidate for the baby's father in the eyes of the student body."

"That or they'll think I've cheated on him with someone," I grumble miserably. Sometimes I wish that the baby was Peeta's. It would make things so much easier. I would never wish that on him, though. Never in a million years. It would affect his life way too much and he'd be tortured by the other students because of it. Making my life easier would just make Peeta's more difficult.

Taking the subject away from my pregnancy, I ask Miss Trinket her opinion on Principal Snow. "I can't say I agree with how he chooses to treat the student body," she tells me in confidence. "But he is the Principal and I am simply a Cheerleading Coach/Teacher. There's not much of a difference that I can make."

"There's some students," I whisper, leaning forward so my voice doesn't echo, "who want to rebel against Snow. We need a teacher on our side. Someone of age who can back up what we're saying."

"Katniss, that sounds quite fanciful," Miss Trinket says.

"It's not!" I insist. "I don't want to leave this school in the summer knowing that more kids are going to be divided and corrupted, blinded to how awful some of their own are being treated just because they aren't pretty or play a sport. Can you honestly say that you want more people to turn out like me and Peeta? One plagued with depression and anorexia while the other has been treating people like him like dirt since day one? Can you, as an educator, say that you can truly handle watching that happen when something could have been done?"

Miss Trinket shakes her head in denial. "But there's nothing we could possibly do."

"But if there was, would you join us? We're asking Mr Abernathy too," I say.

Upon hearing Mr Abernathy's name, Miss Trinket's head snaps up. Her eyes glitter with new found energy and she smiles. "If Mr Abernathy is in then so am I," she says with profound determination.

"Well, I don't know if he's agreed to it yet"-

"Knowing Haymitch, he probably will," says Miss Trinket. I'm shocked by how quickly she has changed her mind but I'm certainly not going to complain about it. "I'm in."

 **A/N: Do I smell Hayffie? xD**

 **Please do R &R with your thoughts and give me a follow on twitter if you can! Your support means so much to me ^_^**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

There's a park situated between the Merchant and Seam sectors of District 12. It doesn't have an age range. In fact, you could probably find all types of people roaming around pretty much all day. The kids would play on the swings, roundabout, climbing frame and such, while the older teenagers usually clustered on the fields, playing football or soccer or gossiping.

I used to go to this park a lot when I was a kid. My mum and dad used to take Prim and myself down to play when the weather was good. They'd push us on the swings and turn the roundabout for us, have picnics in the grass and draw chalk pictures together in the gravel. When my dad died and my mum was put on medication for her depression all that sort of stopped. The park was been refurbished since then but I still feel a tug of fondness when I'm around it.

This is where we meet again after school. Well . . . I say 'we'. Just myself, Peeta, Clove and Annie. The others are busy. We sit on the middle level of the climbing frame, out of sight of Gale and his posse who have claimed the playing fields as their own. After the disaster at Halloween, we don't want to be attracting their attention any more than usual. I especially know that if Gale goes for me again, Peeta will get in between and maybe won't be as lucky as he was last time.

"I called Alma Coin during our lunch break," Annie explains in a hushed voice. "We've agreed on an appointment time that suits all of us-including Mr Abernathy and Ms Trinket-so we can all attend and show her how many of us there are."

"When's the appointment?" Clove asks.

"Thursday evening," Annie answers. "Since Mr Abernathy and Ms Trinket legally can't drive us because of teacher student health and safety laws we're going to meet them at 4:30 at the Square and head to the Board Building from there."

"Have we heard anything from Delly and Madge?" I ask.

Annie shakes her head. "Not that I know of."

Damn. I was hoping that they'd have gotten in contact with us by now, to at least tell us if they're in or out.

Clove claps her hands and rubs them together. "This is good. We have a foothold now. All we have to do is follow it through," she grins. "Here's hoping Miss Coin will be able to help us or else we're snookered. I don't think there's another way of going about this."

"I think we should still try to come up with a backup plan of some description," I say uncertainly. "Just in case."

"Maybe that should be our homework," Peeta grins.

Clove's brown eyes widen. "Homework?!" she exclaims. "I didn't join this shit to get homework!"

"Hey, at least you don't get it every night on top of your ordinary homework," I say. "I have extra maths questions to do every blooming evening. Be thankful, Jettison!"

Clove shakes her head. "But I'm not boning the tutor!" she whines.

I roll my eyes and lightly tap her face. "Neither am I," I remind her.

"This is unacceptable," Clove declares.

"Have you any ideas you'd like to share with the group right now?" asks Annie. "Would save you the bother of having to do it at home."

Clove's mouth quickly shuts. She sticks her nose up in a snooty fashion and mumbles, "No."

I laugh and pat her shoulder comfortingly. "Then there you go. I'm interested in what you're going to come up with now."

"Shut it Everdeen."

A rock hits the metal bars that surround the climbing frame, making us jump in surprise. Anger flares within in me, immediately coming to the conclusion that it must have been one of Gale's team trying to egg us into fighting again. Since I'm closest to the bars, I lean over and peer through. I'm shocked to find Marvel standing at the bottom of the slide. He smiles when he sees me and flicks his fore and index finger up, palm facing our direction. "I come in peace," he says.

"What do you want?" I snap at him.

"I want to talk to you," Marvel tells me. His eyes flicker to Clove who, being her nosey self, has crawled over to have a look at what is going on. "Alone," he adds as an afterthought.

"I don't have anything to say to you," I say.

"But I have plenty to say to you," Marvel bounces back. When he sees how reluctant I am, he sighs and says, "What do I have to do? Get down on one knee and shout, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your brunette braid'?"

"Stop being ridiculous," I order. My stomach is clenching, like somehow the baby is reacting to being in the presence of its father. Or maybe I'm just nervous and thinking up irrational conclusions. Whatever the explanation, it's making me uneasy. "Do that and I'll never come down."

"So if I don't, you will?" Marvel asks hopefully.

"No!" I snap angrily.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I turn, I see it's Peeta, who is smiling at me encouragingly. "Go," he says. "It won't be that bad."

"I'm not ready to speak to him," I say.

"You won't have to say anything," Peeta reminds me. "Just let him say what he wants to say. It won't be that bad, I promise."

I know he's right. He's somehow always right. I nod and give him a parting kiss, knowing that feeling his lips against mine will give me the courage I need to go. I sigh and crawl across the metal flooring to the hole leading out to the steps. I climb down and join Marvel at the bottom. He grins when he sees me approaching.

"Hi," he says goofily.

"What do you want?" I ask, immediately on guard.

Marvel takes my arm and leads me away from the climbing frame. He stops at the tyre swing on the other side of the park, where nobody will hear him. "We have to talk about that phone call," he says.

"What phone call?" I reply.

"The one about the condoms," Marvel answers.

Oh. That phone call.

"You couldn't expect me not to be worried about why you were calling about such a weird topic," Marvel says. "And the panic evident in your voice when I said I had poked holes in the condoms has been prying on my mind ever since. I'm sorry I was such an idiot, I'm sorry I believed Gale when I know he's full of shit and has no respect for girls. But if something's up I need to know. You can't hide it from me."

I don't say anything. I tuck my chin into my chest and look at my shoes. The fact that he has apologized surprises me, as I would never have taken him for the apologetic type.

"Katniss," Marvel says, "is there something you have to tell me?"

I still don't say anything. I'm a shit liar so he'll see right through me if I say no but I can't say yes either. So I settle with silence.

"Your silence is unsettling me," Marvel says.

"What do you want me to say to you, Marvel?" I ask, irritated.

"I want you to tell me if you're pregnant or not," Marvel answers, giving up on being gentle and going for the blunt option.

"What's it to you if I was?" I snap.

"After that phone call? I'm pretty sure if you were that it would be my baby," Marvel answers. His voice shakes a little, the idea clearly frightening him. "If it was, I'd step up and be a man. I'd ditch the losers I hang out with, I'd quit school, get a job, find some way of funding the child. I won't be a deadbeat like my dad. I won't allow that to happen."

I frown at him. Why does he think I would want to keep the baby? From the sounds of it, he thinks if I'm pregnant that we're going to set up a little family together. That's not how it works. "Marvel," I say as gently as I can manage, "I'm not keeping it."

Marvel's eyes widen as the realization hits him that I am pregnant and it is his. "You're aborting it?!" he exclaims in horror.

"No!" I snap. "And will you keep your damn voice down!"

"Sorry," Marvel whispers.

"No, I'm not aborting it," I say. "But when they're born, they're going up for adoption. You and I aren't going to raise it. We simply can't. We're giving a couple who can't conceive a second chance. If you don't like that then I can't let you be involved in the pregnancy. I don't want you growing an attachment to a baby we're not keeping."

Marvel eyes me suspiciously. "Is Mellark involved?" he asks.

"Of course he is. He's my boyfriend," I answer. "If you can't even handle that then you definitely aren't being involved."

Marvel sighs, clearly not happy with that knowledge, but nods. "Okay," he says. "I understand."

I hesitantly reach out and pat his arm. "It'll be okay," I say, trying to be comforting.

"I kinda had a hunch you were up the duff," Marvel says. "Your tits have gotten bigger and you look kind of fat."

I scowl. "Shut up."

"It true! It's not my fault. Well, it sort of is but you know what I mean," Marvel insists. I roll my eyes but continue to pat his arm. I look down at my chest and frown. Have they gotten bigger? I can't tell. I'll have to ask Peeta later.

"You can't tell anyone," I say firmly. "I don't want anyone to know until I can't hide it anymore."

"You can't help what people notice," Marvel reminds me. "I'm sure a lot of the guys have noticed your chest inflating like a balloon, Gale especially. I doubt they'll jump to the conclusion of pregnancy but, still, it's only a matter of time." His eyes have drifted to my boobs, where they usually seem to rest when he's talking to any girl. Urgh, this perv is the father of my child. "However, I won't tell anyone. You have my word."

"How do I know I do Mr 'I made her cum five times'?!" I demand.

"I don't give people my word very often," Marvel explains. "I may be a pervert and an idiot at times but one thing I promised myself was that I would never end up like my dad. I refuse to be a deadbeat. Even if it means simply helping out until the day we give the baby away then I will do that to the best of my ability. I promise, Katniss."

There's definitely something genuine in his tone of voice. I believe him. "Thank you, Marvel," I say.

"I'll even buy you your maternity bras," Marvel says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh you're so generous!" I say sarcastically, smacking his arm.

Marvel laugh dies and suddenly he jumps forward, pressing his lips against mine. I jump in shock and immediately smack him, pushing him away by the shoulders. "What the fuck, Marvel?!" I shout.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I took a chance!" Marvel says defensively.

"I'm dating Peeta you fucktard!" I shout.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, really. Don't let that diminish anything I just said. I still like you a lot, Katniss, but I won't force you to like me back if you don't," Marvel says.

"You better fucking not," I reply. "Another move like that and you won't be buying me anything, let alone maternity bras!" I'm not going to let him buy me anything, really, but it's just for effect.

I leave Marvel by the tyre swing and rejoin the group at the climbing frame. I hope that's the only blip Marvel and I have. If it is . . . Maybe things won't turn out as badly as I thought they would.

 **A/N: I feel like my college is purposely trying to keep me in on my updating days just so chapters get published late -_-**

 **I have a poll going on my profile! Please check it out and vote if you can : 3**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: The update day for Broken Winged Birds has been changed to Wednesdays because I'm not in college on Wednesdays for the foreseeable future and it just fits better :-)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Nine

I am forced to miss school the next day. My body is at war with itself, causing me to have spent 75% of my day in the bathroom. Before she went to work, my mum explained that it's my organs moving in my body to accommodate the baby that is growing inside. Everything is being pushed, putting pressure my body and causing my sickness. Prim spent some of the day with me, making soup for me and chatting, but she left at six o'clock to meet Rory at the park. Well, she says the park. I doubt that's where they're actually going. I don't think she wanted me to know what they were really going to do.

I don't have to worry too much about her, though. I think seeing me on my bad days has put her off any thoughts of unsafe sex. Thoughts that I hope weren't there to begin with anyway.

Peeta comes to see me in the evening when the house is empty. We sit in my room, underneath my blanket, and talk. I feel safe snuggled against his side, like the curve of my body is a puzzle piece that slides perfectly into the side of his. His fingers play with the end of my braid while we chat, his arm hooked around me in a protective hug. Being with him almost helps me forget how nauseous I feel.

"What did I miss today?" I ask, sticking my hands between my knees to warm them up.

"Well, the Seniors got pulled into the hall for a talk about STD's," Peeta answers. He sighs heavily, the memories of the talk clearly disturbing him. "It was informative, to say the least . . ."

I pull a face, feeling glad for the first time today that I actually took sick today. The last thing I want to sit through right now is a talk about STD's and sex. I'm already serving my punishment for having unsafe sex. I'm just lucky that Marvel was clean. "Who organized that?" I ask.

"Mrs Lyme," says Peeta. "They tried to make it cool by giving out prizes and stuff."

"Prizes?" I scoff.

"Yeah and you'd never guess who got the main one," Peeta replies.

I think it over and roll my eyes. "Glimmer?"

"Cato, actually."

"Fantastic," I say sarcastically. "What was the main prize?"

"Tickets to some concert. Some indie band I've never heard of but the populars seemed excited about it," Peeta answers. Of course they were. "I got these though." He sticks his hand into his pocket and produces a handful of small square packets. On first glance, I think they're sweets but when I look closer I realize they're something else.

"Oh my god!" I cackle, picking a packet out of his hand. "You got condoms?!"

"We all got condoms," Peeta laughs, taking my hand and shifting the condoms into it. I count them up and laugh even harder when I reach the final number.

"Damn, they gave you ten!" I snigger. "What the hell? Did they give ten each?"

"They gave out bags of stuff," Peeta explains. "Condoms; health pamphlets; even a weird pleasure gel thing. Honestly, I think it was more a sponsor event for Durex."

I snort. "Well at least Glimmer and Gale won't have to fork out for protection for a while," I say.

Peeta laughs and shakes his head. That sort of humour doesn't usually get him but when it's me, somehow it always tickles him. This sort of talk has reminded me of something, though, of something I'd been meaning to ask him ever since Marvel and I spoke at the park. "Peeta, are my boobs getting bigger?" I ask.

Peeta seems surprised by the question. "Why?" he asks, confused.

"Marvel said they were," I say.

"But Marvel's an idiot anyway," says Peeta.

"So they're not?" I assume.

"Well . . . I didn't say that."

I frown, a little perplexed. "So they are?"

"Yes. No! Well, maybe. I don't know. What's the correct answer?" asks Peeta.

I heave myself up into a sitting position and our eyes meet. "You can't ask me that. I wouldn't know. Surely if they have gotten bigger you'd have noticed!" I exclaim. "It's not perversion when you're my boyfriend, obviously."

Peeta seems to mull it over for a second before he answers. I watch him carefully, awaiting his response. "Okay, maybe a little," he finally admits. "But I noticed out of pure medical reasons in regards to your pregnancy. I would never ever stare at your chest for any other reason." I quirk an eyebrow at him and he flushes bright pink and clarifies, "Never ever ever."

"Of course," I say sarcastically. "You're respectful like that."

"Exactly," Peeta grins. He leans forward and kisses me but pulls back and pulls a face. "Your breath stinks of vomit."

"Shut up!" I laugh, playfully smacking him. I force him to kiss me again, in all my sick-breath glory. "Deal with it!" When I release him from my nauseous display of affection, Peeta sits up and takes a minute to get his breath back. I watch him wearily, concerned about this whole breathing issue. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine," says Peeta. "That just took it out of me."

"We kissed for like twenty seconds," I reply. "Surely you can't be out of breath already . . . We need to have this conversation, Peeta. Remember? The one you blatantly pushed aside at the school playground?"

"Sure, I remember," Peeta answers. "I just don't know if you're ready to know . . ."

"Know what?" I place my hands on top of his and squeeze. "You can tell me anything."

Peeta nods and threads his fingers through mine, lifting my hand and kissing the top of it. The action seems to soothe him, somehow. Like he knows I'm not going to go anywhere. "The anorexia, as you know, has been causing complications in my body because of how long I've had it for," Peeta begins to explain. I nod to show my understanding. "I had to go to the hospital recently, for a check-up. My dad went with me because I was too worried about stressing you out, Katniss."

The way he can't look me in the eyes, the way he's staring at our hands instead of at my face, I know what he is going to tell me isn't good. Like when a police officer comes to your door and you just know that they're about to take off their hat and deliver bad news.

"I have Bradycardia," Peeta tells me. "It's a heart condition, brought on by my malnutrition."

My heart jumps into my throat. My fingers tighten around his. "Is it treatable?" I ask.

Peeta nods. "I have to get a pacemaker inserted," he tells me.

I don't know why but this makes me cry. Maybe it's because my hormones are shot or maybe it's because I can't stand the idea of Peeta having to go through something like this without me because he felt it would stress me out too much. I should focus on the fact that it's treatable and Peeta won't die from it. However, I can't help but feel utterly useless and afraid of what this means.

"I don't understand!" I cry into his shoulder. "You were doing so well!"

"Maybe it's just the after effects of what happened before . . ." says Peeta.

"But your doctor gave you the all clear! You started eating after that, everything was good!" I insist. "You were putting on weight. Sure, it isn't the quickest of processes but at least you were making progress!"

Nausea leaps on top of me like a lion and I bolt out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom and upheaving my guts into the toilet. When I finish, I simply sit there with my forehead pressed against the cool ceramic of the toilet bowl. I sob, my cries echoing in the bathroom and bouncing off the walls.

Peeta crouches down beside me and winds his arms around my body. I turn into him and cry harder. I thought things were improving. I thought we were finally getting back on track. I thought everything was okay and good. I could never have imagined something so awful to have happened. I should be thankful that Bradycardia can be treated. However all I can focus on is how Peeta will need to get a machine inserted into his body.

And also . . . what does this mean for Peeta?

"Answer me honestly," I mumble into his neck, which is soaked with my tears. "Have you really been eating?"

Peeta's fingers dig into my back instinctively and in that moment I know. I know before he even answers me, which thankfully he does honestly. "No," he says.

I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will ward away the truth. "Your diary?"

"Faked."

I grab his shoulders and shake him hard. "You stupid man!" I shout. "Why are you doing this?!"

"You know why!" Peeta shouts back. I glare at him through my teary eyes, maddened beyond the point of sanity at his stupidity. "I'm fat, Katniss! I'm still fat!"

"No, you're not!" I scream at him, slapping him across the face and shaking him again. "Why are you doing this to yourself? Why do you keep hurting yourself?!"

Peeta grabs my upper arms, his fingers digging into my skin so tight it makes me fall silent. His blue eyes are fierce, anger and fear blaring behind them like a siren. His intensity frightens me. "Because you are perfect and I am not," he says. He doesn't yell. He doesn't shout. He says this to me with a calm but intense tone of voice. "I need to fix myself so I am worthy of you."

"You already are," I say gently, trying to match his plane of calm.

Peeta shakes his head. "I'm not," he says, almost to himself. "No, I'm not."

"Peeta"-

"Don't Katniss, I know you're just being nice to me," Peeta says. "I wish you would just admit that you know that I'm fat too so I can just get on with it."

"I'm not lying to you!" I snap angrily.

"Stop it!" Peeta snaps back.

"No!" I scream at him. "If you're so big why was I able to kiss every rib on your abdomen? If you're as huge as you claim why do you have Bradycardia? Why did Cato know that you were starving yourself if you're as fat as your claim to be? Huh? Answer me!"

Peeta is still in denial, shaking his head as I speak. I'm screaming at him because it feels like the louder volume will get it through his head but it doesn't seem to be working.

"You're already perfect," I insist. "You just need to keep eating. It'll all be okay in the end if you just resume having proper meals. Please, Peeta. I'm saying this because I care about you. You know I do. You also know that I would never dream of lying to you. I told you about being pregnant by Marvel as soon as I found out. I could have hidden it from you but I didn't. Surely you know that I'm telling the truth now!"

"I should probably get back to the bakery," Peeta says, his fingers loosening around my arms as he stands up. "Annie says we're to meet up at four o'clock tomorrow after school."

I scramble to my feet, stumbling a little as I take a light head, and hurry after him as he heads for the door. "You can't just leave!" I shout as I follow.

"I have to go," he says.

"I'll tell someone that you aren't eating again!" I weakly threaten.

"Go ahead!" he replies.

"Fine, I will!"

"Good!"

"Good!"

Peeta slams the door shut behind him and I crumple. I sit on the floor in my living room and cry, burying my face into my knees and trying to convince myself that everything will be okay, even though I know that it won't.

 **A/N: Please review with your thoughts. I'm sorry that I'm putting Peeta through this but I'm trying to hit home how anorexia can't just be cured at the drop of a hat and there can be some serious after effects.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

I tell my mum about Peeta. I have no other choice. When I found out about his illness for the first time, there had been no serious medical ramifications besides the rapid weight loss. Now, however, he has to get a pacemaker inserted because he's not eating. A _pacemaker_. That's not something to be taken lightly.

My mum tells me not to panic, that relapse is common with an illness like Peeta's. She says there is no point getting myself worked up into a state about it because it won't benefit me or the baby in any way. She promises to speak with Peeta's doctor, so the issue can be discussed at his next appointment. I try to tell myself that the problem will get solved but worry niggles at the back of my head like a parasite.

Peeta and I don't speak the next day during school. I know he's avoiding me, avoiding what I know. He has to face me sometime, he has to know that. Whether he likes it or not, we're going to have to talk about this. Last night wasn't talking about it. Last night was . . . well . . . our first argument as a couple.

Our little band of rebels meet after school, a little aways from the building so that Mr Abernathy and Ms Trinket aren't tagged for being with students after hours. Somehow, I think it would be okay since they're both here as witnesses of one another but Annie wanted to be extra cautious. It's weird seeing them outside the school environment, as I have grown so used to seeing them in positions of authority and not in a casual setting.

As we walk-Ms Trinket insists that we walk slowly to aid me in my condition and Peeta in his-Peeta won't meet my eyes. He is as far away from me as possible, walking alongside Johanna at the front of the group. I want to catch up with him, force him to talk to me, but what would that achieve? I'm not going to do that in front of everyone. It would humiliate him. Especially around a worrier like Ms Trinket would be sent into a spin and would insist to take him to hospital immediately.

"Just for the record, I am not legally obligated to make sure that you guys don't throw yourselves in front of a bus," Mr Abernathy comments as we walk.

"Oh wow, glad to know you care," Johanna says sarcastically.

"Does that mean we can call you by your first names?" Finch challenges, looking over her shoulder to meet Mr Abernathy's eyes. Her short, ginger hair has this way of glowing in the sunlight. I'm extremely envious of it as it makes her pale face radiant.

"I don't see why not," says Ms Trinket. "I'm Effie."

"Haymitch," Mr Abernathy grunts.

Finnick snorts in amusement but promptly gets smacked by Annie. "Capitol kids?" he asks.

"I am," Effie frowns, not seeing the problem.

"Ignore him," Clove quickly says. There is a reputation for Capitol kids to be spoiled snobs who only worry about themselves. So far, Effie has disposed that reputation from the way she has been helping me and Peeta through our personal issues. Even though Haymitch is born bred 12-I can tell from his grey eyes and Seam dark hair-he also has displayed similar qualities. Especially when he resuscitated Peeta at the P2P Ceremony.

"So, Katniss, have you gotten your antenatal appointment, yet?" asks Effie.

I nod. "The letter came this morning. I'm to go in two weeks' time."

Peeta twitches and glances over his shoulder, looking at me for the first time today. I wanted to tell him but he had been avoiding me so much that I couldn't. I'm not bitter about it, I understand why he's been hiding, but it did grow to be a little irritating having to hold the knowledge in without telling anyone.

"First scan, isn't that exciting?" Effie giggles.

"Who's going to go with you, Katniss?" Annie asks before I can answer Effie. "Marvel or Peeta?"

I told them about Marvel finding out when I returned to the climbing frame that day in the park. However, I never thought about who was going to accompany me until now. "Can't both come with me?" I ask weakly.

"I doubt Marvel would want me there," Peeta speaks up, making everyone jump at the sound of his voice. He hasn't spoken up through the entire journey until now. "Marvel is the father, it's the only feasible option."

"But I want you there," I say.

Peeta shakes his head. "It's fine. Marvel has to go. It makes sense."

Sensing an argument brewing, Annie grabs Finnick's hand and points ahead. "Look! There's the Council Building!" she exclaims.

The Council Building contains the offices of various different departments within the community. Fire Board, Police Board, Education and Library Board, etc. This is where our meeting with Alma Coin has been scheduled. Annie hurries ahead, defusing Peeta and I's conversation about my scan. We follow her reluctantly, not as eager about talking to this woman as she is.

The building is huge and so formal I feel like an intruder as soon as I set foot inside it. I gulp, wishing I had Peeta's hand to hold onto. This is an industry for adults, not kids like us. What if they think we're just meddlesome teenagers trying to stir stuff up? Annie is talking to the man at the reception desk. I twiddle with my fingers nervously, watching her and Finnick explain the situation to them. The man nods and points upwards, handing Annie a card of some sort.

"We've got a pass card," Annie says as she and Finnick joins the group again. "Alma is waiting for us on the fourth floor."

When we reach Alma's office, Annie knocks on the door before swiping the pass card through the operator on the side of the door. The door clicks open and we enter, all of us piling into this woman's office like a Calvary about to attack.

Alma sits at a desk that resides in front of a massive window overlooking the streets below. She looks exactly like her photographs. Stern and unforgiving. She makes me feel so uneasy and she hasn't even spoken yet. We barely get a second glance from her before she's asking, "Who are the teachers here?"

"That would be us," Effie says, squeezing past and dragging Haymitch up behind her.

"Do you wish to represent the children or are they going to?"

"I feel like the students are capable, don't you, Haymitch?"

"Huh? Whatever."

Annie steps forward without needing to be told. "Miss Coin," she begins, "we really need your help getting rid of Snow. He's breaking our school apart! We don't know what else to do as it's our Senior year and soon we'll be gone. You're the last person we can turn to as we know that you have the same hatred for Snow as we do."

Alma hums noncommittedly. "How has he been breaking the school apart?" she asks.

"He favours the 'popular' kids," Annie explains. "He doesn't discipline them because they win the school trophies. And by trophies I mean sports and cheerleading contests. Academics seem to be of a different calibre all together in his eyes. An unimportant one, at that."

Alma sighs. "Is that it?"

Annie falters. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"It sounds awful but it's not much to build a case on," Alma explains. "I want Snow gone as much as the next person but we can't build a case on 'oh he likes such-and-such student better than me' with a bunch of finger pointing added on top."

"We're not pointing the finger!" Annie exclaims. Her voice has rose in volume and pitch, causing Finnick to step forward before she says something she regrets and loses us this opportunity all together.

"We thought you were looking for any excuse to give Snow the boot," Clove says.

"It's not as easy as that," Alma contradicts, eyes narrowed harshly. "I've wanted Snow to lose his position ever since we began to work in the same field."

"Why can't you then?" Johanna demands.

Alma is firm in the way she speaks to us. It's almost refreshing, even if she is treating us quite severely. We need to be considered adults for this to work on any level. "You can't just come up with any old reasons for this. One: there has to be evidence. Two: I must work with you to expose Snow to the public before I can do anything resembles giving him the boot. If it were a matter of sacking him, I would have done so ages ago."

We had thought that explaining Snow's favouritism would be enough but clearly it isn't going to cut it. What now?

Peeta weaves around the group to stand where Annie had once stood. "Miss Coin," he says, "I don't feel like we've began this correctly. The lovely girl you were just speaking to was Annie Cresta, who is in a relationship with Finnick, the man standing to her left. They have been forced to hide this relationship because Snow's treatment of the students means that Finnick's Football Scholarship would be at risk just because he's dating Annie, one of the alleged 'Smart, unpopular crowd'."

Alma raises her eyebrows, clearly intrigued.

"Beside them, is Johanna Mason"-Johanna waves with a sickly smile, clearly pissed off by how fast Alma had brushed Annie off-"who has to take her medication in the dirty toilet stalls because Snow lets some of the cheerleaders eat their lunch in the first aid room because, and this is quoted, 'they don't like people watching them eat'."

I didn't know that. I used to eat in the canteen with Glimmer and Clove. But then there were the other girls . . .

"Then you have Finch Hannigan, who has won the school fifteen academic trophies in her five years at this school," Peeta continues. "None of which have ever been acknowledged or praised by Snow. Instead, when Cashmere thought it would be funny to spit a wad of ten chewed up pieces of gum into her hair, Snow simply recommended a haircut."

My jaw unhinges and I look at Clove, who meets my gaze with equal shock. I never heard of this happening! I just always thought Finch had shoulder length hair because it suits her so well. Now that I think harder about it, she did have hair that used to reach the small of her back. Hair that Cashmere used to be massively jealous of . . .

"Clove is a cheerleader, just like those who Snow favours. Ever since she started hanging out with us, however, none of the others-including Snow-will give her the time of day."

This is true. Clove and I have both been treated as piranhas since we joined Peeta's side of the food chain.

Peeta looks over his shoulder and meets my eyes, the blue orbs weighed down with sadness. Alma is all ears, taking notes with eager vigour. "And that's my girlfriend, Katniss Everdeen, who is also a victim of the system."

"How so?" Alma asks, twirling her pen around her fingers and leaning back in her seat.

"I was a bully, Alma," I blurt out, knowing that Peeta would never say the words out loud. "I was a goddamn bully. I destroyed people's lives because I thought it was fun. It took me to break my leg and stop being the head cheerleader of the squad to realise how bad it was in the 'lower ranks'. As soon as I couldn't cheer, and began to get tutored by Peeta, I got thrown aside by Snow like a cold bag of sick. Before that he would have let me away with murder. When my leg heals and I'm back on the squad, he will probably try to do the same again."

Alma nods, writing something down.

"I'm also pregnant."

The pen nearly snaps in Alma's hands. "Sorry?"

"Snow cut Sex Education Class, resulting in a boy in my class believing that you can poke holes in condoms and get away with it," I explain. Alma frowns and points at Peeta. I shake my head. "Someone else."

"Yet you now have a relationship with this boy?" asks Alma.

"Of course," I say. "He's my world. He made me a better person. I'm not a bully anymore."

Peeta smiles at me and I smile back.

"So," Alma says to Peeta, "what's your story?"

"Peeta Mellark," Peeta says, holding his hand out to her.

Alma takes his hand and cringes as she shakes it. "You're a bit of a bony one," she comments.

"I would be, I'm anorexic," Peeta bluntly says.

Alma's eyes nearly bulge out of her sockets. "Excuse me?"

"I was a fat child, Alma, and you know how children are," Peeta explains. "They joke and jibe and poke fun until you hate yourself and how you are as a person." I walk over to him and take his hand, trying to convince him that he doesn't have to do this. "I lost my weight but the names didn't stop, convincing me that without a doubt that I will always be that fat child. Snow could have done something about it, could have stopped it, but he didn't bother because all I did for his precious reputation was improve maths grades." Peeta puts his hand on Alma's desk, on top of her notes and says firmly, "I will not let this happen to somebody else. I will not let somebody else turn out like me just because Snow can't be bothered disciplining a couple of jokers."

"So you _were_ anorexic?" Alma tries to correct.

Peeta shakes his head. "I still am. I can't even look at my reflection in that window, Miss Coin. The thought of having to eat when I get home terrifies me. I went into cardiac arrest, was hospitalised, I have to go through therapy and get a pacemaker inserted all because Principal Snow couldn't handle telling a few students to stop calling me fat. If you turn us away, Miss Coin, you are condemning the future generation of this District to the same fate as me."

"And me," I say.

"All of us," Finnick says.

I turn into Peeta, hugging him tight. He's trembling, whether it be from fear or rage I can't tell. He's panting, his heart beating too fast for his body to keep up. "Please," he begs Alma, "help us."

Alma sighs and looks to Ms Trinket and Mr Abernathy. "You can confirm these stories as true?" she asks.

They nod. Surprisingly, Mr Abernathy speaks up. "I resuscitated that boy myself," he says, pointing to Peeta. "On the stage in the main hall while the students filed out. They knew what was happening but a lot didn't care. Especially those who have been calling the boy fat. And you know what Snow said when I asked what was going to be done about it; when I reported that he had been hospitalized and was in bad condition?"

We all look at him, shocked by the passion in which he is speaking.

"He said that kids tease," Haymitch says, gritting his teeth angrily. "He said that kids tease and nothing can be done about it."

We gape at him. Did Snow seriously say that? After Peeta went into _cardiac arrest_?!

"You should have started with this," Alma says. "Could have saved us all a lot of trouble."

"We were hardly going to start by outing Peeta as anorexic and shifting through the details of what it has done to him," I snap, somehow irritated by what Alma is trying to say. "You don't know how much it probably took to admit it to you!" Peeta's fingers dig into my back, a clear sign to chill out. I try to do this, breathing in and out slowly and allowing him to take over again.

"Will you help us Miss Coin?" Peeta asks.

Alma puts her pen down and leans back in her seat again. For the first time since we came into her office, she smiles. It looks odd, out of place, like she doesn't do it often. Thankfully, the news she gives us next is not at all disappointing.

"I believe we have a case."

 **A/N: Anorexia is a difficult thing to admit you have but Peeta saying so is another step towards recovery.**

 **Please R &R! **


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Despite everything, Peeta still comes back to my house after we visit Alma to do my studies with me. Except, I can't concentrate. He knows I can't. He knows I have to talk about what happened. About what I know. About how and why and when. He tries to ignore it, to push through our work and ignore the way I'm staring him, probably burning holes with my eyes alone.

Eventually, it becomes too much.

Peeta slams the pencil down on the islet. We are sitting across from one another, not touching, barely moving. His eyes are locked on the marble bench of the islet and not on me. "What?" he snaps irritably.

"We have to talk," I say, my voice quiet but firm.

"About what?"

"You know what."

Peeta rubs his temples tiredly, shaking his head without much conviction. "I'm sorry," he said, voice splitting like cracks in the pavement. "I didn't want to disappoint you. I didn't want to let you down or make you lose your faith in me." He speaks as if this, the idea of having made lose hope in him, was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Ever.

"You didn't," I insist, reaching across the islet and taking his hands. "Of course you didn't, don't be silly. I still have faith in you to get better, Peeta. You just have to tell me what happened. What made you relapse? Did someone say something to you? Or did something make you think on your own that you had to stop again?"

Peeta still can't make his eyes meet mine. He radiates shame. Like what has happened to him is something that he can control, something he should be able to get a handle on without causing such a fuss. Peeta has always believed that he is an imposition, that his problems are small and insignificant. Trivial, even. He could never be farther from the truth.

"I've been in a dark, dark place for a while now," he explains to me. "And I don't know how to find my way out."

My heart stutters in my chest. I don't like the sound of that. "Have you been speaking to your counsellor about this?" I ask. A thought comes to mind. "Have you even been going to your counsellor?"

Peeta squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. "I can't. They don't understand. They keep telling me things that aren't true."

"What sort of things?" I frown.

A small pause. "The same things you tell me."

I play with Peeta's fingers, trying to keep a lid on my own feelings. The last time we did this, we ended up screaming at each other which resulted in his leaving. "The things I tell you aren't lies," I remind him. "Neither is what your counsellor tells you."

"I know you don't lie to me," Peeta says. He sounds like he's battling with himself, like a war is raging inside of him. Mixed in with that is confusion. Heavy, rapid confusion. "But when you say things like . . . like . . . 'you're not fat', it feels like maybe you're humouring me. Trying to make me believe that I'm okay when I'm not."

"But you are," I say. "We've talked about this before. Not eating is not the answer. Whatever you feel, whatever you believe, not giving yourself the basic tools to continue to live a healthy life has never been the answer."

"You say it like it's easy," Peeta replies, his teeth clenched together.

"I know, I know," I sigh. "It's easy for me to sit here and tell you to eat. I don't know what it feels like to struggle with my weight, or feel like I'm fat to the extent of being physically incapable of eating. I don't know what it's like to feel uncomfortable in who I am. What I _do_ know, however, is what it feels like to watch someone I care about struggle with his weight. To feel like he's fat to the extent of being physically incapable of eating."

I rub my fingers between Peeta's, trying to remain as composed as I possibly can. "I know what it feels like to watch someone who I deeply care be feel uncomfortable in who he is. And it tears me apart."

Peeta chews on his lips anxiously. I know he wants to say something to me, I know he wants to tell me not to worry about him but by this point I think he knows that it's useless. He knows that I will always worry about him, no matter what he tells me. "She called me fat," he says quietly.

"Who did?" I ask carefully.

He shakes his head. "We were eating dinner and I was doing my best to eat what I could. She laughed at me and said I should stop before I got fat again, which she could see happening very soon. Judging . . ." He clenches his jaw and I feel his hands shaking in mine. " . . . Judging by how much I was eating."

"Who said this, Peeta? Who was it?" I insist to know.

"My mother."

I feel my anger spill out like a lid being ripped off the top of a shaken up soda can. I slam my palm on the islet, making the glasses rattle and shake. "That's bullshit!" I snap. "She's a liar! You aren't fat, you know this. You can't let her control your thoughts like that, Peeta. You can't let her take away all the progress you've made."

Peeta collapses in his chair, resting his head against our joined hands. "She's right, though. I'm eating too much."

"She's wrong," I fire back. "No! You can't let her trick you like this. How long has she been saying this to you?"

Peeta shrugs despondently. "As long as I can remember."

Not only have the students' cruel taunting been getting to Peeta, but his own mother has been insulting him too! Never have I ever felt such a burning hatred for a woman I've never met before in my entire life. No wonder Peeta hates going home. No wonder he spends as much time with me as he can. His home environment is toxic!

"How often would she say things like this to you?" I demand to know.

"Every day, I guess . . ."

I shake my head. "No. No. I'm not standing for this."

"Katniss, I appreciate your concern, I really do but . . . what can you do? It's my mother we're talking about here. She's always at my house," Peeta explains. "I can't avoid her, I never could."

"Stay here with me," I say. "For a few days, at least. Until we can figure out what to do about your mother's abusive behaviour."

"Hardly abusive," Peeta contradicts.

"Anything that encourages your illness counts as abuse," I say firmly. "And I will not stand for it."

Peeta doesn't seem convinced. I don't know how to press this type of point. It's a sensitive area, trying to make him see that his mother has been abusing him verbally, and I don't want to make him feel like he's any more vulnerable than he already is.

"All I'm asking for is a few days," I say, reaching out to touch his face. He closes his eyes at the contact and I stroke his cheekbone soothingly. "Just let me chase the nightmares away."

"Katniss," Peeta says carefully, "You cannot protect me from everything."

I scowl. "Just watch me try."

~xXx~

Mrs Mellark calls Peeta at eight o'clock that night. We stare at the mobile, as if it's going to lurch off the counter and bite us. My mother is there too, leaning with her back against the oven. I explained everything to her, and she agrees that what Peeta's mother is doing is uncalled for and toxic to his recovery. It would be different if she was joking, if she was unaware that Peeta was sensitive to being called fat or had a condition that would cause him to retain such information, but she does know. She is well aware of it.

She couldn't even bring herself to visit him in hospital.

"It's only a matter of time now," Mum sighs.

"Until what?" I ask back.

"Until she comes barrelling through the Seam to knock our door down."

I look at Peeta in alarm, and he seems to agree with my mum's statement. I gulp. Oh god, what have we set in motion? I don't regret it but I worry about how this is going to go. Mrs Mellark, from what I've learned, is not a happy camper, especially where it concerns Peeta. The idea of us keeping him from, or suggesting that she is making his condition worse, will probably cause her to hit the roof.

True to what mum says, half an hour later our door is being pounded on. My hand is in Peeta's and as soon as we hear it, he goes stiff beside me. My mum walks to the door, taking her time and not rushing, and keeps the chain on the door as she answers it.

"Where's my son?" a voice immediately demands.

"He's here, with us," Mum says calmly.

"It's past his curfew. He has to come home. Now."

"That's not going to happen," Mum replies.

I can't see Mrs Mellark due to our door still being on the chain, but I can easily imagine her face flushing red with rage and veins bulging in her forehead as she shouts, "He's my son and I can dictate when he can and can't remain here. You're lucky I even let him around here at all!"

Peeta puts his face in his hands and I chew on my lip anxiously. My hand goes to his back subconsciously, rubbing in what I hope is a calming manner. He reaches out and squeezes my knee, trying to return the sentiment and remind me not to get worked up myself. As his mum continues to rant, I lean close and whisper, "Does she even know that we're dating?"

"If she did, I would never be able to see you," he whispers back, clearly ashamed of himself for not telling me.

I look over my shoulder, to where Mrs Mellark is still yelling. My mum simply stands there, listening to her and waiting patiently for her to finish ranting. "I will have the cops called on you! This constitutes kidnapping!"

"Kidnapping is the unwilling taking of a person," My mum sighs. "Your son has made the decision to remain here himself. He's eighteen, Semira, he can make his own choices now." It surprises both me and, evidently Peeta, that my mum knows Mrs Mellark's first name. When did they know each other, or even get on a first name basis? "Besides, I doubt the cops would want to know about the bruises I've noticed on your son's body throughout his time here, or the way you've been treating his condition."

"That's none of your business!" Semira spits back.

"I am a woman of medicine, Semira, I make it my business," Mum says firmly. "Not all abuse is evident through a slap."

"I'll have you for this!" Semira shouts.

"I know, I know. I'm a horrible person for protecting Peeta," Mum says, rolling her eyes. She moves to shut the door and pauses. "It's pretty shocking when you're a person's parent and you can't even tell what's going on in their personal lives, don't you think?"

"What are you blathering about?" demands Semira.

Mum looks over her shoulder, to where Peeta and I sit on the sofa, clutching each other's hands like if we let go we'll fall of the edge of the universe. "If you loved him at all, you'd stop to think about what makes him happy," she says with finality before shutting the door in Semira's face. The woman only pounded on the door for a minute and half afterward before sulking back to the bakery.

"Good job, mum," I beam. It's relieving to have my mum on my side on this matter. I could have told her about Semira's behaviour and my mum could have told me to keep my nose out of it and leave it alone. Thankfully, as a doctor, my mum has a natural caring streak within her. She can't help it, just like I've grown to be unable to.

Mum sits on the arm of the chair and touches Peeta's shoulder gently. "I know this is hard," she says. "And Katniss and I can't pretend that we understand what you're going through, but our door is always open to you. I know you care about Katniss, and she clearly cares about you, which is good. Because a relationship isn't a relationship without trust and caring. Therefore, not only is our door open to you, but our family is too."

Peeta nods, unable to find any words. "Thank you, Rose," he whispers, making mum smile at his ability to finally use her first name.

I lean towards him and squeeze him tight. This is what he needs during this vulnerable time: a family. It seems that the family he has either don't notice or don't care how Semira has been treating him through his recovery. Either way, I'm certainly not standing by while I know that's going on.

I know that he would do the exact same thing for me.

"By the way," Mum says as he heads to the kitchen, "you're sleeping on the sofa bed, not in Katniss' room."

I glower at her as she laughs her way to the kitchen. When I look back at Peeta, he's smiling, and that makes everything worthwhile.

 **A/N: Sorry, not much happens in this chapter. Because of the weather change, my head has been banging all week. I wanted to give you all something since I didn't update Kindred last Friday so I got this written for you. I apologize for any mistakes or typos, as it's hard to be perceptive with a headache :)**

 **Something is finally being done about Peeta's mother, though, so I'd say it's still a win.**

 **Please review with your thoughts.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

When I have a nightmare, my reaction to it is extremely externalized. I scream; I thrash and cry. My sister has grown accustomed to my yelling and sleeps through, even though her room is right beside mine. My mum is the same, a long line of night terrors from when I was a kid having given her a harder exterior and made it easier for her to sleep through. Tonight, however, when the nightmares come-images of blood and gore and death-I wake up with only one thought in mind.

Peeta.

Peeta would not eat, in my dream. No matter how hard I tried to convince him to eat, he would refuse. I hugged him, sobbing, begging him to please help himself, and he crumbled away in my grasp. Turned to dust in my arms and blew away in the wind. I then found myself standing by his graveside, in the pouring rain, surrounded by his family and the kids from school. The kids who didn't care and the kids who called him fat. The ones who caused this in the first place. They were treating his death as joke, their appearance at the funeral enough to show this.

I wake up after this, thrashing in my bed with an aching throat from what I presume was my screaming while I slept. I can't tell if the wet on my face is sweat or tears. Maybe it's a mixture of both. My head pounds like a drum as I sling myself up to sit and I have to rub my temples with my fingers while I go to the bathroom.

The mirror above the sink reveals a pale, sickly looking girl. My face is sparkling with moisture, glittering like jewels in the faint light coming in through the bathroom window. I can't switch the overhead light on as it automatically switches on the fan which would alert my mum to my being awake. Ironically, my screaming wouldn't wake her but the fan blazing in the bathroom has her up instantly. Must be a mechanical versus nature thing.

My stomach begins to churn and I lean against the sink for support. I breathe in deeply. I don't have the energy to be sick. The cool air in the bathroom soothes my frayed nerves, thankfully, and the sickness subsides. I brush my hair back from my face and hobble out of the bathroom again, thankful that the pounding in my head has stopped as well.

I'm out in the hallway when the nature of my dream returns to me. I limp out into the living room, where Prim and I helped Peeta set up the sofa bed earlier this evening. The room is surrounded in darkness but I can make out the dark form of the sofa bed. As I approach, I can make out the shape of Peeta, buried beneath the mountain of blankets we provided him with.

When I'm standing by the bed, I realize that something is wrong. He's shuddering in his sleep, his teeth clinking together like he's freezing. The way his face is crumpled, the way his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows furrowed, I can tell what is happening. Where my nightmares are externalized, Peeta's are internalized. His body bottles it up until he wakes up, keeping it all trapped inside until reality saves him.

"Peeta," I whisper, shaking his body gently. "It's just a dream, wake up. Peeta!"

Peeta wakes up gently, as if having been pulled from a pleasant dream instead of a nightmare. His blue eyes flicker open, glowing in the darkness like one of those glow sticks you wave around at Halloween. "Katniss," he whispers, relief blossoming in his tone, "you're okay."

"Of course I am," I reply.

"It was so real . . . I thought . . ." Peeta sits up and wraps his arms around my midsection, hugging me so tight I almost can't breathe. "I thought it was real."

"What happened? Tell me," I say, stroking his hair softly.

"You were in labour but there were complications and . . . and . . ." Peeta shuts his eyes and shudders. "You died. I was left alone again in that school and I was fat again. I was massive and everyone was laughing and you weren't there with me to assure me that it was okay like you always do. I missed you so much."

I feel like my heart is going to crack open in my chest. I slide to the mattress and sit beside him, my arms going around his neck to indulge his embrace and make it last longer. "It's okay, I'm here," I murmur into his neck. "I won't leave you, I promise."

"You mean so much to me, Katniss," Peeta murmurs back. "When I'm in the bakery, I wake up from nightmares like that and you're not here with me and I panic and think the worst. My mum wouldn't understand if I tried to explain to her why I needed to go to the Seam to find you in the morning so I would have to stick it out until school starts."

"You can always come find me now," I say. "It doesn't matter what time it is. Don't worry about my mum or what she will think. If you wake up from a nightmare like that and need to know that I am here then please come into my room. Wake me up if you need to. I won't mind at all."

"I want you to do the same," Peeta replies, touching my face carefully and looking at me searchingly. "You always tell me about your nightmares. I want to help you as much as you help me. If you ever want someone to talk to or to hold you or even just sit with you until you're okay. I am here for you."

Peeta kisses me. I return it, tilting my head and touching his shoulders to hold him close to me. I let my face fall by his neck, where I softly murmur, "Nightmares suck but we can fight it together."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Peeta asked.

"No," I answer, clutching him tighter as if he was going to disappear right in front of me. "I don't want to leave you."

"Your mum will kill me if you stay," Peeta chuckles.

"I don't care." I duck under his arms and climb into the bed beside him. "I'm not going to sleep without you here. I'll deal with my mum in the morning. Or I'll get up before she wakes up and pretend I'm making breakfast. Just don't make me go."

"I just don't want to abuse your mother's hospitality," Peeta said sheepishly.

"We're not going to have sex," I deadpan, making Peeta blush. It's still dark but even in the black gloom I can tell that he's turning red. I take his wrist and pull him into bed beside me. The sofa bed is old and creaks every time you move, so when Peeta lets me pull him next to me, he winces and freezes-as if my mum is going to have a sixth sense and lurch out of bed to stop us lying together.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Peeta asks when we're settled together.

"I did," I say.

"What was it about?"

My fingers trail along his arm. I should have noticed sooner that he was getting thinner. Even now I can feel his bones jutting out again. "It was about losing you," I explain. "Same way you dreamed about losing me."

"I'm sorry," Peeta mutters into my hair.

"Don't be stupid, it's not your fault," I reply. I snuggle against his chest and close my eyes, comforted just being by his side. "I only experience nightmares about things or people I care about. I would rather care about you and experience the nightmares than not have you here with me now."

Peeta kisses the top of my head. I close my eyes and curl my fingers into his t-shirt. Being so close to him is so impossibly comforting that I feel at peace. I'm content to slip back into sleep, allowing myself to submit myself to my dreams again for I know that deep down I am safe, as long as Peeta is here with me.

And I sleep through the entire night.

Without

A

Single

Nightmare.

When I wake, I feel the sunlight streaming in through the windows against my face. I groan and bury myself into the warm body beside me, not wanting to wake up and face the world. Peeta's arm is around me in a protective brace, guarding me from everything that could possibly be a threat. I adjust my face so it is lying against his shoulder and am prepared to let my eyes flutter closed again, when a cough from the bottom of the bed wakes me up completely. My eyes flicker open and I see my mother, dressed in her scrubs. Arms folded, eyebrows raised, mouth pinched. Uh-oh.

I slap Peeta to wake him up and sit up straight.

"How long did it take you to disobey me?" Mum asks.

"Err . . ." I blow a raspberry and flounder, trying to come up with a reasonable answer to her question. Peeta is disorientated, rubbing his eyes tiredly and trying to get his bearings. He freezes when he sees my mother and sits up on the bed, ready to gush out apologies. I slap my hand over his mouth and shush him.

"What is my one rule, Katniss?"

"Don't share a bed with boys," I say, "but mum"-

"No buts, Katniss," Mum interrupts. "You know that this is my one rule. I let you and Prim away with a lot. But especially now, when sharing a bed with a boy got you pregnant, you have to understand and respect my wishes."

"Mum, we're not going to have sex!" I snap. I feel Peeta's skin heat up beneath my palm and I let it fall away, shushing him again so that apologies don't spill out of his mouth like an overheated pot of pasta. "He makes me comfortable! I used to be a wasted slut but that's not who I am anymore! I just want to lie with him, okay?!"

Mum rolls her eyes. "Katniss, you have to understand why I can't trust you when you say that? You promised me that you were being safe and look what happened. I'm not saying what happened to you was your fault-it was that idiot Marvel's fault-but I don't want you to get hurt again."

"Mum," I say firmly, "I didn't have a nightmare last night."

My mum frowns, her slightly weathered face a portrait of confusion. "I'm sorry?" she frowns.

"I didn't have a nightmare," I repeat. "Well, I did. When I was on my own. Then I came to Peeta and I fell asleep with him. I slept through the remainder of the night without a single nightmare. Don't tell me that I can't share a bed with Peeta when he can save me from that. I will not go through that hell if I know that the simplistic add of sleeping with my boyfriend in a platonic manner will save me."

"The last time you didn't have a nightmare was . . ."

"The night before dad died."

Mum narrows her blue eyes, her gaze ping ponging between myself and Peeta. Peeta is obediently keeping his mouth shut but when I glance over my shoulder, I see that it is clearly a struggle for him. He really wants to apologize to my mother. He doesn't want her to think of him as a delinquent leading me astray. The thought alone was barmy. Peeta? A delinquent? Pah!

"A pipe burst in the school," Mum says stiffly, averting her eyes from the both of us. "You get a long weekend." She grabs her bag off the armchair and heads to the door. "I'll be back in the evening. Put that sofa bed away and tidy up the living room, alright?"

I climb off the bed and follow her to the door. "Mum, it's okay. I didn't mean"-

"I've got to go, Katniss," Mum cuts me off, kissing my cheek. She leaves without another word. I groan and run my fingers through my hair.

"You should have let me apologize," Peeta says nervously.

"It's not you, Peeta," I say, turning around and returning to the bed. I sit on the edge and put my face in my hands. "When my dad died, my mum went into a manic depressive state. Sometimes Prim and I couldn't get her to respond to us. She nearly lost her job; the house; _us._ So when she got better, when she was given her medication and was put on the straight and narrow, she realized how much she had been neglecting Prim and I."

I feel Peeta edge closer to me and he places his hand on my back, rubbing it gently. I close my eyes and focus on him, here, with me.

"Ever since she's been trying to help us in whatever way she can. She's tried to save me from my night terrors by not letting me watch scary movies, seeking advice from the mental health unit in the hospital, advising Prim on what to do if she hears me screaming . . . I think it may be upsetting her a little that all I needed was company as I slept," I explain.

"Do you think she blames herself for not providing that company?" Peeta asks.

"No," I say. "I think she knows that it's not just any company. It's _your_ company."

Peeta frowns. "Why?"

I don't know how to answer. I can't explain how comfortable he makes me feel when we're together. He just . . . does. "I'm going to make some tea," I mutter, standing up and leaving the sofa to enter the kitchen. Peeta watches me go, disappointed that he didn't get an answer but hopeful that maybe I'll find it in me to tell him someday.

Prim pads into the room in her pink pyjamas, rubbing her eye and yawning. "What time is it?" she mutters.

"Nine o'clock," Peeta answers, glancing at the clock on the mantel.

"Don't you have school?" I ask, flicking the kettle on and pulling two cereal bowls out from the cupboard: one for Peeta and one for Prim.

"Don't you?" Prim asks back.

"Ah-ah," I say, "I have an excuse. The pipes burst. Your turn."

Prim flicks her tangled hair behind her shoulder and tips her nose up snootily. "My chemical experiment may or may not have set the science labs on fire yesterday," she admits. "My year got the day off so they can be repaired. Probably means I'll have to go in tomorrow though, which is annoying. I won't complain though since a day off is a day off." She plops onto the sofa bed beside Peeta, who seems to be trying to figure out how she could set her science labs on fire on her own. "Is that for me?" she asks, watching me pour her a bowl of cereal.

"Yes, yes," I reply. I haven't been able to stomach anything but dry toast in the mornings anyway. I shake some into a bowl for Peeta as well and add some milk. I hand Prim her bowl while my bread is toasting and make the tea. Once everything else is ready, I bring my toast and tea over to the bed, with Peeta's cereal.

Primrose stands up immediately. "I'll leave you to it."

"You don't have to," Peeta says. "You can stay."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll watch TV in the conservatory. I like it down there anyway, especially on cold mornings like this. You can see the rain through the glass but it's still warm inside," Prim explains. She pads across the living room and disappears into the conservatory. The sun I had felt earlier had disappeared and the sky was grey, the tell-tale sign of oncoming rain.

I munch on my toast, watching Peeta carefully from beneath my fringe. He's holding the bowl in both his hands, not making a move to touch the spoon. Maybe I should have made him toast instead . . . "Peeta?" I ask.

"I can do this," he mutters. He's staring intensely at the cereal inside the bowl, like he's trying to read the swirls of the milk like a psychic would do with tea leaves.

"I know you can," I say softly. I put my plate down on the mattress and the cup on the floor. I cup my hand over Peeta's, where I can instantly feel it trembling with fear. "It's okay to ask for help, though. I'd be more than glad to oblige."

"I am not going to be helped to eat," Peeta says between gritted teeth. "I am not a child." Despite what he says, he allows me to take the bowl from him. I climb further up the bed to sit beside him. I stir the cereal a little bit and scoop it up into the spoon. "I'm serious, Katniss."

"Do it, for me," I insist. "We'll take it together. One step at a time. Or, erm, should I say one spoonful at a time . . ." I edge closer to Peeta and balance the bowl on my knee. I press my lips against the side of his face, hoping it will encourage him. Peeta closes his eyes and braces himself. I wait patiently, allowing him to take as much time as he needs before starting.

"Thanks, Katniss," he murmurs. He takes the spoon from my hand and use my now free hand to rub his back as he eats while eating my toast with the other.

"I want you to come with me to the scan," I tell him.

Peeta puts the spoon into the bowl in my lap and stirs the cereal some more. "Marvel has to go, Katniss."

"You can go to the scan, too," I explain. "I can bring one than one person. Please. I want you to come with me. I want you there because I want someone I care about there. I don't want Marvel there but he has to be there anyway because I have no choice in that matter. He is the father and he has to be there. But I want you there because you are my boyfriend and I need you to hold my hand." Peeta slowly eats another spoonful of the cereal. I reach out and steady his hand, which is still shaking horribly, so he doesn't spill it on yourself. "Please. Come with me."

Peeta pulls the spoon from his mouth and swallows. He nods finally. "Yes. Okay. I will," he says. "Anything to support you, Katniss."

A smile breaks out on my face and I hug him tight. "Thank you," I say. "It means so much to me to know you'll come. I couldn't bear having to deal with Marvel on my own. And I want you to see the baby, too. I want to share the experience with you."

Peeta leans his head against mine. "I will do anything for you, Katniss," he murmurs. "Anything at all."

 **A/N: Sorry I didn't update last week. I was working on my Halloween one shot for TMI.**

 **I also apologize that I updated this so late in the day. If you can believe it, my sister is pregnant and I went with her to her first scan today. Even though I finished It's a Jungle Out There around summer time, my sister took pregnant around the same time Katniss does in the story. Their due dates are the exact same! It's amazing seeing the baby in the scan pictures.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

I hate hospitals. I've expressed this on numerous occasions before. I despise them. They remind me of blood and death and despair, of hurt without comfort, of the ending of a life that could have done so much more. I always felt like I could smell the dead, the scent of lingering termination. The finality of it so secure that it stays within the corridors for the remainder of the building's days.

Never did I ever believe I would relate a hospital to the beginning of new life.

My eyes take in the tiny blob on the screen. Of how it moves every so often and how it is there, so clear, so real. I feel like crying, the freezing cold gel on my stomach forgotten as I grip Peeta's hand tight in my own and cover my mouth to stop myself from crying.

"Is that it?" Marvel asks in awe, his finger pointing to the tiny creature on the screen. We're all huddled in this one room, gaping at the beauty of life as it is displayed before us in all its glory. I almost can't believe that such a tiny being is inside me right now. All I know is that I will protect it until the day I die and never let harm come to such an innocent creature.

"It is, indeed," Portia smiles, probably seeing this sort of reaction every day. "I would say you're about fourteen weeks along, Katniss."

"Fourteen?!" I yelp. "That's more than we thought!"

"I know but nothing was set in stone until this scan," Portia explains. She sees my panicked expression and pats my arm reassuringly. "It's going to be okay. You're fine. Look at the support you have." She gestures to Marvel and Peeta, who are both gaping at the screen still, mesmerized by my baby. "I think you'll do alright, Katniss." She taps a few buttons on the computer and prints out a few copies of the scan's image for us.

Whenever she lifts the scanner off my stomach, the image vanishes. Somehow, I miss it already. My grip lessens on Peeta's hand and I breathe out deeply. He hands me some paper towels to dry my stomach off with and helps me clamour off the bed while Marvel simply stares at the blank screen, as if the baby were still there.

"That . . . that was my kid," he stutters.

"Uh, yeah," I say awkwardly. "It was."

"I'm going to be a dad," he says.

"Well, I suppose in some ways," I answer as the three of us follow Portia out of the room and back out into the corridor. "Remember, we're not keeping it." Marvel nods, still quite dazed looking, and wanders over to the chairs in the waiting room.

"I'll need to speak to Katniss alone," Portia tells us. "You boys are fine to wait here, right?"

I glance between Marvel and Peeta, slightly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving them alone together. I know Peeta wouldn't actively seek out trouble but Marvel is a shit stirrer who isn't exactly my boyfriend's number one fan. I linger nervously by Peeta's side, hand on his arm as I contemplate asking for them not to have to be alone together.

Peeta takes my hand off his arm, seeing my hesitation, and gently pushes me in Portia's direction. "Go on, I'll be fine," he says with a confident smile.

"Are you sure?" I ask, looking at Marvel uneasily out of the corner of my eye. Marvel grins smugly and wiggles his fingers teasingly at me. I scowl at him. How can he go from dazed to asshole in 0.5 seconds?

"I may be slightly fragile right now, Katniss, but I can look after myself," he reminds me.

I smile and kiss him, pushing up on my toes like a ballerina to do so. "See you in a second," I whisper against his lips.

As I'm approaching Portia's room, Marvel says, "It's okay Mellark, I haven't got any food over here anyway."

I spin around, full of rage, and yell at him, "One more comment like that Marvel and you will not be coming to another scan with me, do I make myself clear?!"

"Whoa, chill out pregnancy brain, it was a joke," Marvel snorts. Peeta, who leans against the wall as far away from Marvel as possible, rolls his eyes and shakes his head, clearly not offended by the joke but disappointed in Marvel's ability to mention it at a time like this. It just reminds me more and more of how we're still, in some respects, children. At least I'm making an effort to be mature.

Portia looks irritated as I enter the room and sit down at her table. "That boy needs a reality check," she mutters as she jots down a few notes. Portia knows about Peeta's anorexia-it has reached a point where it is hard to dismiss, even when he's wearing a thick jacket and jeans-and the three of us have actually discussed it at length.

"Don't need to tell me," I say back.

Portia takes my bloods again. "Your medical history says you are on antidepressants, is that right?" she asks afterward.

"I am," I say. "Well, I'm prescribed to them. I'm not depressed. It was a misunderstanding."

"Oh?" asks Portia, quirking an eyebrow.

I point at the cast and support on my leg. "I fell in my bathroom and everyone thought I tried to kill myself," I explain. "The painkillers I was taking for a cheerleading injury all came out of the bottle when I fell, making it look like I tried to overdose."

Portia taps her chin with pursed lips. "I see," she says. "Okay, I'll have a talk with your doctor and see if I can get you taken off them."

"Wait, you believe me?!" I exclaim.

"Of course," Portia says. "I'm your midwife. It's my job to believe you."

I stare at her in shock. Apart from Peeta and Clove, Portia is the first person to believe me right off the bat when I said I didn't try to kill myself that night. It feels good to be believed and understood. Maybe she'll be able to convince Doctor Aurelius to take me off those damn meds!

"Since you're fourteen weeks along, I can offer you a test to see if your baby has Downs Syndrome," Portia explains to me. "It's entirely up to you whether you want it or not but it's recommended. Being prepared in case your baby does have Downs is paramount."

My hand goes to my belly instinctively. "Is there a risk of my baby having Downs?" I ask.

"It's hard to tell," Portia admits. "It's unlikely if it's not in your genetics but you can still have a baby with Downs anyway."

"Is it in the baby's best interests to have the test done?" I ask.

Portia nods. "It would be."

"Okay then, book me in for it."

Portia books me in for a nuchal translucency ultrasound scan for three days' times. It has to be so soon because if we wait until after fourteen weeks (which would be next week) then I would only be able to get a blood test done, which is less accurate than the nuchal scan. My baby having Downs wouldn't affect my decision to put them up for adoption but I would certainly make sure that whoever they are going to aren't at all prejudiced or discriminatory towards them because of their genetics. They're still my child, Downs or no Downs.

"I have another question," says Portia. I nod for her to go on. "You need to tell me about your sex life."

"Uh . . ." I'm at a loss for words for a moment before gathering my wits again. "Since the time with Marvel or . . . ?"

"Since the time that got you pregnant, yes," Portia confirms.

"I haven't had sex since the time that got me pregnant," I answer.

Portia types something into her computer and I suddenly wish I had X-ray vision to see what she was writing. "Is it because you're concerned for the baby's welfare? Because I can assure you that your baby will not be affected if you partake in sex," Portia explains. "In fact, some would argue that it's healthy for the foetus."

I feel myself blushing, which is odd because I'm normally the one okay with talking about sex. It somehow feels different discussing it under these circumstances than it is when I'm trying to convince Peeta to have a quick snog behind the school bleachers. "No, it's not, um, about the foetus," I explain sheepishly. "Peeta just isn't ready for it."

Portia nods, not feeling the need to probe for more information. I'm relieved by this, but the last thing she says makes my face whiten. "You must be prepared for the heightened sex drive you will get during your pregnancy. Especially since Peeta isn't ready for such a step just yet. He has full right to be reserved about it and it's refreshing to hear about someone respecting their partner's sexual wishes instead of pushing it on them."

"I would never," I say, horrified by the very thought.

Portia smiles. "I know. You two care about each other a lot, I can clearly see that. The way he held your hand when I was putting the gel on your stomach; how he helped you off the bed and cleaned you up before Marvel had even blinked . . . I think you've gotten very lucky with that boy, Katniss. Don't let him go."

I nod firmly. "I don't intend to."

~xXx~

After parting with Marvel at the bus stop, Peeta and I start walking home. We don't know what we're going to do about clothes or pyjamas for Peeta at the moment but I have a feeling my mum is planning to drop by the bakery after work. If Semira is there, Peeta's dad will be too, who is much gentler and will give mum what she wants without a fight, despite Semira's protests.

I'm enjoying the walk, my hand interlaced with Peeta's, when an attractive man passes us on the pavement. I can't help myself, I turn my head and watch him walk away; mesmerized by the way his shoulders move beneath his jacket as he texts on his phone. When I look back around, I notice Peeta doing the same thing too, having just looked back around at the exact same time as me.

He clearly sees me doing it too because he tugs on my arm and says, "You were staring at him!"

"So were you!" I accuse. The idea makes me laugh, despite myself, and I shake my head in amusement. "At least we have the same taste, I guess!"

Peeta's ears have turned slightly pink, burning with embarrassment. Normally we'd laugh past this sort of thing but I can see that me catching him out staring at a man has prompted a shier reaction than usual. It's cute and I'm ultimately glad that we caught each other out because if one did and the other didn't then it could have led to a completely different sort of situation.

I hate how much his cuteness turns me on. It's not fair that he can do this to me so easily, without even trying, and I must force myself to keep a lid on it. Sometimes I wonder if the 'oh I'm not ready' thing is just a front, a thin cover over a desperate plea to be ravished. I know it's not, and I tell myself it's not, but you'd be surprised how irrational your brain becomes when you're powerfully horny. Of course, maybe it's all just down to pregnancy brain. I want to kiss him for a while before my mum gets home because Lord knows we can't do it with her around after the trouble with the sofa. It's not because I'm particularly desperate for it, more because I know that if I don't get it all out now then it's going to come out by accident when my mum is in the house.

I'm surprised when Peeta kisses me first. When we shut the door behind us, he threads our fingers together so our hands are clasped together, and connects our lips softly. It builds up slowly, from a light kiss to a hungry sort of snog-like interaction, and somewhere inbetween we moved from the doorway to the living room to the sofa bed.

Being caged against the bed by Peeta makes me feel safe. He keeps me warm and protected and secure. I purr as his lips find my neck, my back arching against the mattress like a cat and my fingernails raking over his clothed back. "I've never done this before my ass," I moan, growling when he chuckles against my skin like an amused panther.

I unzip my jacket, exposing more of my skin to him, and encourage his ministrations on my neck by massaging his scalp with my fingers. I know he likes it because he purrs against the skin of my neck, like a sexy cat being petted just the way it enjoys.

It doesn't take long, however, for Peeta to lose his breath. He hasn't got his pacemaker yet and his heart is still beating irregularly. When he has to stop, not because he's too nervous or afraid but because he physically can't do anymore, I pull him down on top of me and continue to massage his head, allowing him to catch his breath again.

"I must be a sucky boyfriend," he murmurs against my chest.

"Why? Because you can't give me sex?" I ask. "It's hardly all I'm looking for."

"I know but it's something a boyfriend should be able to give," he mutters despondently.

"Peeta, don't start," I warn him. "Because I'll wipe the floor with you with compliments, don't think I won't." I untangle his hair, picking apart the knots and smoothing it down on his head. "Sex used to be the only thing that mattered to me but you mean too much to me for that to be the only important thing in our relationship. There's so many more important, new things in my life, the main thing being you."

Peeta's chest heaves against my stomach and I can feel his heart thumping against me. He smiles against me and I smile back, leaning forward to kiss the top of his head. We sit like this for the rest of the night and, even when my mum comes home and sees us like this, she doesn't say anything. She simply pulls the blanket over my body, making sure that she doesn't throw it over Peeta's head and smother him. I barely register her doing it, only realising that she had been there when she kisses the top of my head.

"I love you," she whispers to me.

And I know she's telling me the truth.

 **A/N: I plan for more action next chapter, however I won't be able to update next week as I am in England. Gives more time to get the chapter written though! ;)**

 **And I want to salute you all and wish you good luck for next week, as Mockingjay Part 2 will be released and our saga will end. But we will continue to keep it alive, won't we guys? :)**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

I'm awaiting a phone call from Portia regarding my test results but since I have to go to school, mum is going to forward the call to Ms Trinket if it comes while I'm gone. I don't know how I feel about being back here, especially now that I know that Coin is going to help us. I feel like somebody is going to be somehow be able to see through me, to the plan formulating at the back of my mind.

I'm getting fatter and even though I have started to wear shirts that are cinched just above the bump and flow outwards, I know people are beginning to notice.

"You aren't fat," Peeta scolds when I bring it up in Chemistry. We're huddled together at the same table, trying not to allow ourselves to be heard by anyone else in the class.

"Now don't be stupid," I answer. "You and I both know that I'm getting bigger. The cause for concern would be if I wasn't." I drop my voice to a whisper. "I'm just worried about people noticing."

Peeta's eyes how understanding and he nods. "The worst that will happen at the moment would be people accusing you of eating my cakes for me. They won't jump to conclusions of a baby just yet. You aren't showing enough for that."

I scowl at my notes, which are scribbled and lacking in detail. "I never thought about them jumping to conclusions like that. Not even jumping to conclusions, concocting bullshit just because I'm gaining weight while you're struggling to put yours back on. If they dare do that I'm going to go 100% psychotic on them."

"100% psychotic," Peeta repeats. "I'd rather you didn't."

"I know," I huff. "But, come on, if they do get on like that then they're crossing a line."

"And as bad as that will be, it won't be for long. Only a few months," he answers.

"I don't like the thought of even that," I mutter.

"I've dealt with much worse for much longer," says Peeta. "As long as you keep your temper in check, I'm sure you'll cope."

"My temper in check?" I reply, unconvinced.

"I know," Peeta sighs, amusement clear on his face. "I can hardly believe it either."

"Katniss, Peeta, stop talking," Mr Crane scolds.

A snort comes from the table in front of us. "Pff, they have lovers' spats in class," Cashmere says, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she turns around to glare at us. "How rude."

"Cashmere, pipe down," Mr Crane says.

"Whatever."

Peeta and I can't even speak to each other anymore without being accused of having 'lovers' spats'. It's not because they genuinely believe that we are fighting, it's more of just a way to poke fun at our relationship. The worst is when they say things like we're imprinting; or humping; or fucking; when we're simply sitting close to one another or hugging. We don't kiss in front of them, the only thing we do around others is hug and hold hands. But to them and their vindictive ways, it's enough to laugh at.

Some of the rumours I hear about us are disgusting. Things ranging from blowjobs behind the bleachers during big games to fucking in bathroom stalls. I don't know if Peeta is aware of what most likely Gale and Glimmer are spreading around but it really bugs me that they're shitting all over his purity, just for fun. The worst we have done on school grounds is had a snog behind the bleachers, which had briefly included his hand on my chest and mine on his butt. That was it. In fact, the kiss wasn't even that long.

I hate fucking rumours.

"Katniss, there's a phone call for you," Mr Crane suddenly says, breaking me from my thoughts. Peeta squeezes my hand and I nod, getting out of my seat. "Go to the office," my teacher says as he passes me a hall pass.

The ladies at the office don't give me a second glance as I approach, simply pushing the telephone towards me flippantly. I pick up the receiver and press it against my ear. "Hello?"

"Hello Katniss," Portia says. "How are you feeling?"

"Worse for wear but okay," I answer.

"Your test results have come in," Portia tells me.

"And?"

There's a pause where all I hear is Portia's breathing. Then she answers. "They came back positive."

My heart stutters in my chest and my hand goes to my stomach instinctively. I move away from the open window through to the office so the women can't hear me and ask, "My baby has Downs Syndrome?"

"I know this is difficult news to hear," Portia tells me. "But Downs Syndrome isn't anything to be weary of. Your baby will still be born happy and healthy, it will simply have an extra chromosome. We'll make sure that whoever adopts the child knows how to care for a Downs baby and ensure that they partake in a few courses to make sure they realize the extent of their parental duties."

"So my baby is still healthy?" I ask, because that's all that matters to me.

"Yes."

"Then that's fine. Thank you, Portia."

"You're welcome, Katniss. If you want to discuss it further at any point, feel free to contact the midwifery," says Portia.

I thank her again and hang up the phone. I make my way back to class feeling at ease now that I know the truth and don't have to sit and anticipate it. In reality, whether my baby had Downs or not had never been a concern for me. It's not something I believe should hinder someone's decision to be a parent but then there are some sick people out there who would disagree with me, I'm sure.

As soon as I enter the Chemistry lab, my eyes lock with Peeta's. He raises his eyebrows in silent question as I give the hall pass back to Mr Crane and I nod, confirming what we had both been waiting for a response on. Then, as if the wind changed or the elements shifted, Peeta's face turns bone white and he falls forward, his head slamming down hard against the table top.

"PEETA!"

~xXx~

They took Peeta to hospital and inserted his pacemaker there and then. His body had been struggling to cope for ages now and the flutter my news had given his heart had been the spark that it needed to go into spasm. In a way, his early surgery is a good thing, because now the pacemaker will regulate his heart beat. They give him a bracelet, identifying him as a person who has a pacemaker inserted, so that if he ever wants to get on a plane or has to go through a metal detector he can prove he isn't dangerous.

"We need to stop meeting this way."

Peeta chuckles, taking my hand and using his fingers trace the lines of my palm when I sit by his bed side. The room we are in is different to the one he had been in for his anorexia. Where that one had been closed off and slightly stuffy, this one has a large window that overlooks the carpark of the hospital. It's rather symbolic. Closed off and stuffy, a sign of illness and desperation. Open and bright, a sign of healing.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he says.

"Don't be silly, you couldn't help it," I reply. "Are you in pain?"

"It hurts a bit," Peeta answers, "but it's more uncomfortable than anything."

I lean forward and stroke his chest, just above the stitched up skin. The wound is beginning to bruise and I can tell that there will be a scar left behind when the stitches dissolve. "Can you feel it working?"

"I think so . . . I don't really know how to tell just yet," Peeta admits. His eyes flutter with contentment, liking the way my fingers feel softly stroking him. My touch must put him at ease, the same way his does for me. My hand slides up to touch his face and he smiles, turning his head to kiss the palm of my hand.

"The nurse told me that you can't put any pressure on your wound," I tell him. "Which includes supporting your weight with your hands." I grin cheekily. "Looks like I'm going to have to top you for a while."

Peeta laughs. "I love how you sound so remorseful of that," he says sarcastically.

"I know, it's devastating, isn't it?" I joke. I kiss him, brushing the hair back from his face as he kisses back. "You should get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

Peeta nods and settles down on the bed. I continue to softly caress the side of his face, lulling him to sleep. It's not fair that someone so good should go through so much. I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could take all pain and suffering away from him, somehow. Even if it meant taking it onto myself instead. Maybe not when I'm pregnant, though. After that.

I gaze out of the huge window, to the grey skies outside. You can tell that it's November, the winter weather getting worse and worse every day. Judging by the skies it's going to rain later, no surprises there, but hopefully my mum will be able to take me home with her, even if her shift ends too early for my liking. Not that I want her to stay on, but I wish I could stay with Peeta longer.

When I leave Peeta's room in the hospital to get myself a glass of water, somebody grabs my arm and drags me into a storeroom. I yelp with surprise and lash out at them, punching and kicking at them while they fumble to find a light switch. When the bulb finally flashes on, I'm met with the smug face of Gale Hawthorne.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I spit at him.

"Glimmer has some allergy appointment or something," Gale answers. He smirks. "I didn't expect to find you here."

"What do you want?" I snap.

"What are you doing here?" asks Gale.

"None of your fucking business," I reply.

Gale acts offended. "What's with the attitude?"

I stare at him. "Are you serious? After what happened on Halloween you're lucky I didn't contact the police. You nearly hit me and you assaulted Peeta, knowing full well that he was sick and you could possibly break his ribs. Do you honestly expect me to be all happy and welcoming towards you?"

"Well, if I'm honest I was convinced that your love for that twerp was an act," Gale informs me. "Just to spite me."

"You're an idiot," I reply. "Peeta has given me more than you ever could. And he didn't feel the need to make me jealous so that we could be together. We're not the ones performing the act, you and Glimmer are! No, wait, just you. Glimmer isn't. She thinks you genuinely like her, doesn't she? Unless you've suddenly ditched your feelings for me and are trying to pursue other girls, that is . . ."

"Like you did?" Gale smirks.

I narrow my eyes. "I didn't ditch my feelings. I realized they weren't all that genuine in the first place."

"So you decided to shack up with the first boy who would take you then?" Gale asks, raising his eyebrows. "Not just any boy, either, the fat, anorexic, bi-sexual pretender, nerd that is Fatboy Mellark?"

"Don't you dare," I warn, my voice scarily low. I'm not having this. Especially not today when Peeta has just gotten his pacemaker inserted. "If you circulate that nickname again I will chop your balls off, ditto for any more of your homophobic ideas. What do you think the 'B' in LGBT stands for anyway? Bingo?!"

"Peeta has given you more than I ever could," Gale muses thoughtfully, ignoring my warning. "Does that mean that the rumours about you blowing him in the Janitor's Closet are true?"

"Not everything is about sex, Gale," I snap.

"That's where you're wrong." Gale grins. He tries to stroke my cheek but I smack his hand away angrily. "Everything is about sex."

"That is how you ended up dating Glimmer, a girl who's going to end up having to sleep her way into a job while I've actually got a kind, generous, intelligent man as my boyfriend." I scowl when Gale laughs and try to leave, only to be stopped by his hand against the door. "Let me out."

"Don't act like there wasn't a time where you'd have let me fuck your brains out," Gale says, his face getting too close to mine for my liking. I step back, and bump into a mop. "Just because you're hanging out with the nerds now doesn't change the fact that you are dirtied. No matter how hard you try, there will always be a part of you that is like Glimmer, and Cashmere, and Cato, and even myself."

"Anyone can change," I hiss. "You just have to be willing to admit that you're the evil one."

Gale blows a raspberry. "Is that what Finnick did? Did he finally admit that he's a man whore?"

"Shut up," I snap. "Finnick is braver than any of you jocks. He had the courage to admit that the system is wrong, and in doing so he found security with the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Our pasts don't affect our futures, I of all people know that. At least I'm trying to make a change, whereas you and your stupid friends are stuck in this cycle of bullying and idiocy."

Gale is too amused looking for a man that is being shouted at. I try to push past him again but he grabs my wrists and holds them together, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I know those rumours about you and Mellark aren't true," he tells me. "He can barely hold himself up, let alone have the balls to give you want you need."

"I don't need anything," I growl, trying to yank my wrists out of his grasp. "Not in the sense that you're talking anyway."

"I know that you still want me," Gale whispers, smirking like a cat that's got the cream. "I know that you still want me to give it to you."

"I am not who I used to be," I say. "I will never, ever be her again."

Gale ignores me, his eyes falling to my body with a confused curiosity. "Why are you getting bigger, anyway?" he asks. "You were always that annoying brand of person who could binge and not put on any weight."

"I didn't put on any weight because I had cheerleading practice," I reply. "I don't anymore, because of my leg, so I'm putting on a little bit."

Gale grins. "It's a good thing that I still find you sexy, huh?" he smirks. His hand easily finds its way up my shirt, due to how it's such a loose fabric, and I jolt when his fingers graze my stomach. I scream and knee him in that gut, pushing him over when he releases me to double over in pain.

"Fucking touch me again and I will call the police," I snap. "And if you dare take this out on Peeta, I will make sure you regret it. I will protect him until my dying breath."

It doesn't occur to me until I've stumbled out of the closet that Gale may have felt something he shouldn't have. Surely I hit him quick enough for him to be unable to tell that I'm pregnant? That my putting on weight isn't really due to binge eating? He couldn't possibly have felt my baby bump.

Right?

 **A/N: I'm sorry for not updating last week! I was in England (:**

 **I've seen Mockingjay Part 2 twice now and I still can't get over it. I won't divulge anything for those of you who haven't seen it but, trust me, it's good!**

 **Please R &R! **


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Gale would never have hurt me. He's an arrogant douchebag who doesn't know when to quit, but he isn't a rapist. He thinks he can tempt me back to his side, to become his girlfriend-legitimately this time-and resume my life of hatred and spite. His ignorance reaches impeccable levels and he would rather I came to him on my own that him have to force me into anything. But in that moment, I was so scared, I thought maybe I was wrong.

Peeta recovers quickly. The insertion of a pacemaker isn't exactly the most severe of surgeries and he's back in school by Wednesday. It's helping him greatly and when he came home on Tuesday night and I laid my head on his chest to fall asleep, I heard a regular heartbeat. No stutters, no pauses, no quickened pace or anything. Just a steady _thump thump thump_. I was so overjoyed I wept in his arms (which, to be honest, was probably an effect of my hormones too).

I thought I would have gotten stick being in school for that one day without Peeta there but thankfully Clove was back (after a bout of flu) and made sure everyone kept a distance. When Peeta returns, however, there's one less classmate. As if one came back and someone else left.

"Where did Cashmere go?" I ask Wednesday morning when we're on our break.

Clove shrugs, picking at Peeta's hair at the picnic table and trying to arrange it into a stylish manner. "Rumour has it that she ran away with some guy," she replies. "A sugar daddy from Skype or something . . ."

I blow a raspberry. I'm not sure how to respond to that. I look to Peeta, who just batted Clove's hand away from trying to comb his hair back with some gel she found in her bag. "It might just be a rumour," he says. "I wouldn't trust the grapevine."

"I don't know, it fits Cashmere's personality perfectly," says Clove.

"Some would argue the rumour about you fancying Cato fit you perfectly too," I remind her.

Clove glowers at me. "Watch it Everdeen," she says.

I hold my hands up. "It doesn't matter if they thought you did," I tell her. "I mean . . . a crush is a crush. Whether you like it or not, people are going to think things. Most of these things probably not being entirely true, or pleasant, or desirable. Have you heard some of the rumours about Peeta and I? I mean, it's not exactly a bed of roses for anyone . . ."

"What rumours?" Peeta frowns.

I bit my lip, having forgotten that Peeta didn't know about what had been spread around about us. I try to come up with some fake rumours on the spot, something that isn't as bad as the truth. But lying has never been my thing. Surely he'd see through me. Shit, what do I say? I stare at him and he stares at me, patiently waiting for my answer.

"That Katniss blows you in Janitors' closets and you buck behind the bleachers," Clove says. Her eyes widen with confusion when I glare at her.

"What?" Peeta frowns. He lifts his eyebrows. "Seriously?"

I shrug sheepishly. "I dunno," I mumble.

"Don't lie to me, Katniss," Peeta says. "Is it true?"

I sigh and nod. "Yes, it's true."

Peeta huffs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Okay, sure," he says. "Just fantastic."

I reach across the picnic table and take his hands in mine. "Don't let them think what they want," I say. "As we've said, they're going to think whatever they want no matter what anyone says to them. We just have to let them get on with it."

"That's just . . . wow," Peeta mutters. He looks at me and frowns. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd want to hear it," I tell him. I glance at Clove, not sure whether this is the sort of conversation a person should have with her boyfriend in front of her friends. "It's not exactly . . . an appropriate topic."

Peeta is aware of Clove as well. Clove herself has stepped away from Peeta and is watching us both with raised eyebrows. Peeta ruffles his hair back into its natural positioning and meets my eyes. "We'll talk about it later," he says. I nod in agreement, glad that we aren't going to discuss why I kept the rumours about our sex life from him in front of my best friend.

A while later, a bit before break ends, Annie appears with Johanna. Her hair is fluffed out quite nicely, like she put a lot of effort into it this morning. Maybe she's going on a date with Finnick this afternoon. Or maybe she even just wants to look nice. "Hey, Katniss," she says, stopping by the picnic table to speak to us, "I got a call from Alma Coin and she wants to speak with you privately. She says tomorrow would be best but if it doesn't suit you can reschedule."

"Me?" I ask, confused. "Why me?"

"We don't know yet, brainless," Johanna answers. "You have to go and see what she wants."

"Erm, okay, I guess," I frown.

What does Alma want with me? Why does she want to speak with me specifically? What about Annie, or one of the adults, or more to the point, Peeta? He was the one who got through to her, got her onto our side, so why does she want to speak to me? I don't seem to the only person who's confused, as Clove is frowning as well and Peeta is trying not to look perplexed but is failing epically at it.

"I can't," I tell them. "My mum wants me to go to the clinic tomorrow to talk to Portia about," I flicker my eyes down to my stomach, so the others get the message without me having to announce it in the schoolyard, "and the extra precautions I must take and the different options available to me now that my test results returned."

"Then you'll need to reschedule," Johanna says.

"Can't someone else just go?" I complain.

"She wants you, Katniss," Annie says. She presses Alma's number into my hand and smiles. "How bad can it really be?"

~xXx~

Peeta is in the bathroom, showering, while I sit on my bed staring at Alma's number. I still don't understand why she wants to talk to me personally when there were so many other people who stood out at the meeting. Sliding my thumb along my phone screen, I tap in the number and hold it to my ear.

Somebody answers on the third ring.

"Hello, Alma Coin's office, Boggs Ali speaking, how can I help you?" a male voice asks.

"Um, hi," I cringe. "This is Katniss Everdeen, I was told that Alma wanted to speak with me tomorrow but I . . . ah . . . can't make it."

"Do you wish to reschedule?"

"Yeah."

"Okay . . ." I hear tapping at the other end of the line. "She's free next Friday, if that suits?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I reply.

There's a pause. I expect the conversation to be over but I'm not entirely sure so I don't hang up. "Are you the Katniss who is trying to get Cornelius Snow fired from his position?" Boggs asks me.

"Maybe," I answer cautiously, fingering the seams of my bed covers to keep myself occupied. "Why?"

"It's not my place to comment," Boggs tells me, "but be weary of Coin. This is a topic she has tried to deal with before, with unsatisfactory results. She's determined but maybe a bit too determined and I've seen the report that Ms Coin has written up about you guys. You're only kids . . ."

"So?" I demand to know. What's wrong with us being kids? In fact, we're barely kids! We're teenagers, there's at least some difference!

"Be weary of Coin," warns Boggs. "This situation is too personal, there's no guarantee that she is acting simply because she wants to see justice in your school. It's only an excuse. The excuse she's been looking for for years to bring down that man . . ."

"I don't understand," I say. What is Boggs trying to tell me? That Alma can't be trusted? But why? She's helping us! She believed us about Snow when anyone else would have chalked us up as prattling children and written us off. What else is there to say? Surely if it was personal, she wouldn't be allowed to be in charge of the Education Board. I don't get what I'm being warned of here.

"Just keep an eye on her, Katniss. She would do anything to push that man off his high horse," Boggs explains. "Good luck with your venture but tread carefully. I wouldn't want to see a bunch of high schoolers get hurt because of this. Because of her."

"But"-

It's too late, he's hung up.

What an odd man.

Peeta enters my room a second later, drying his hair with a towel. I drop my phone like I've been caught looking at porn. He notices how startled I am and pauses, wondering briefly if it's something he did. "Are you okay?" he asks me.

"Yeah," I frown. "Just had a weird conversation, that's all."

"Weird in what way?"

"Doesn't matter."

Peeta believes me. Despite the fact that I'm a bad liar, there are times when he writes his worries off, convincing himself that he's just being paranoid. He sits at the end of the bed, still drying his hair, and poses the question I've been waiting for all night. "So . . . those rumours?"

I lie against my headboard and shrug. "I didn't think you'd want to hear about what those dirty minded idiots were saying about us," I admit. "Especially since they aren't true. I just figured you'd be happier being oblivious to it."

"I wouldn't say that I would be happier being oblivious," Peeta says, "but it is a little disturbing to think about them discussing us in that way."

"People like that think that everyone else's business is their own," I say. "That they have some sort of right or claim over it. They get a kick out of spreading around that you and I are being horny together on school grounds because they don't believe that a relationship can be as genuine as ours without their being something carnal about it."

"Do you think there is something carnal about it?" Peeta asks me. He's not trying to trip me up, he's genuinely interested in what my answer would be.

"It is possible," I concede. "But not on the terms or the grounds that they think. I would never be so desperate as to want you to fuck me in school, that's disgusting. In the privacy of my bedroom though?" I wince at how my heart skips a beat at the thought. "Sure, someday." I grin. "You can't deny it, we're a pretty sexy couple."

"Oh yeah," Peeta says sarcastically.

"No wonder we're the talk of the school."

Peeta laughs and shakes his head. He ruffles his hair with the towel one last time and busies himself folding it up to keep his hands occupied. "Just so you know," he tells me, "I do want to take that step with you. I'm just not . . . I just can't bring myself to be"-

I poke his side with my foot. "Hey, look at me." He does, chewing on his lip like it's a stick of gum. "We will do it when you are ready. No sooner, no later."

Peeta smiles. He stands up and kisses me. "Want a cup of tea?" he asks.

"I would love one!" I reply, heaving myself off the bed and following him out of my room. I'm lingering in the doorway when Bogg's warning comes back to me.

" _I wouldn't want to see a bunch of high schoolers get hurt because of this. Because of her."_

I shake it off and follow Peeta into the kitchen.

~xXx~

"Have you noticed that Katniss has gotten fat?"

Gale struggled to focus on two things at once. His face had been buried in Glimmer's chest, the other having been on a path towards her pants, when she asked him such a ludicrous question. "What?!" he exclaimed, having to stop completely to speak.

"Have you noticed that Katniss has gotten fat?" Glimmer repeated, her face showing that she wasn't happy about having to repeat herself. "What's that all about?"

"I don't know, Glimmer, I'm kind of busy," Gale said irritably.

"It's bothering me!" Glimmer whined.

"But why?!"

Glimmer wasn't going to say it directly, but it was clear that she was looking for gossip bait. For more lies to spread around about Katniss, the girl she had grown to despise over the years and who she was immensely jealous of. If she didn't get new things to say, then her friends were going to get tired of the endless stream of sex rumours. Eventually, they would be able to see through the bullshit. Mellark was a rake at the moment. Pacemaker or not, there was no chance he could have sex so often and since he was such a goody-two-shoes, it was also becoming highly unlikely that he would do it on school property.

"Maybe she's been eating too many pies," Gale muttered.

Glimmer shook her head. "That's too easy."

"Okay, how about Mellark hasn't been anorexic at all and Katniss has simply been hoovering down all his food herself?" Gale suggested.

"Interesting but unrealistic," Glimmer sighed. A thought came to mind and she grinned. "Maybe she's pregnant."

Gale snorted. "Yeah, right, and I'm a virgin," he replied.

Glimmer narrowed her eyes angrily and said, "I'm telling people that she is pregnant with Mellark's baby and that it was conceived while having a hot, sweaty threesome with Finnick when his bookish girlfriend was out studying or whatever. That'll show Mellark to stop acting like he's 'bi-sexual' and Katniss to stop behaving like she's superior to me. Maybe I should add that Fatboy has been secretly gay all along and will only do it with Katniss when there's a dude present for good measure . . ."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Glimmer," Gale said wearily. He didn't like Katniss as much as the next person, and despised how she had allowed herself to get caught up with the Loser's End parade but . . . telling people she was pregnant? Wasn't that a bit much? And he knew Cato was going to be livid if he found out about Glimmer saying Mellark was gay when he wasn't, as if it was the sort of thing that could be tossed around like that. "I know that Katniss and you have a feud or whatever but isn't that stepping over a line or something"-

"And punching the shit out of Mellark wasn't? If we hadn't stopped you you'd have gotten arrested!" Glimmer shouted. Gale sighed, grey eyes tired, and he let his forehead rest against Glimmer's tanned stomach. "Besides, who cares if it's true or not? It's a rumour! It's my job to spread them! The student body will understand the trick when nine months pass and there's no baby, it'll be fine."

No, Gale wasn't sure if it would be at all.

 **Important message guys!**

 **Josh Hutcherson's girlfriend has been receiving a lot of hate on her newly opened Instagram, simply because she is dating him. I urge anyone who has an Instagram to send her an encouraging message or comment to show that we're not all toxic. Right now, these people telling her to kill herself are representing the hunger games fandom, and the Hutcher fandom, and even the Joshifer fandom who, believe it or not, have been contributing more hate than anyone else. We need to help Claudia before these awful people push it too far!**

 **(her Instagram name is clatraisac in case you guys don't know)**

 **I just think a little comfort and encouragement towards her wouldn't go amiss right now.**

 **Thank you.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

There's something wrong.

I sense it as soon as I enter the school building. It's almost as if every head turns my way, similar to how my entrance had been when I returned after I broke my leg. My hand is interlaced with Peeta's and, judging by the way his fingers tighten around mine, I know he senses it too. Has one of the sex rumours gone too far? Is it all anyone can talk about now that all students feel the need to stare at us as we pass them?

People whisper as we walk to my locker. I try to blot them out, ignore them like I do every time a ridiculous rumour surfaces about me. There's something that feels different about this time. Something that sits uncomfortably with me and makes me feel ill. And the fact that we're greeted at my locker by a pale faced Clove confirms my assumptions.

"What the hell is going on?" I demand to know, throwing an angry glare at a group of students who usually gather by the locker across from mine. I could practically feel their eyes burning into the back of my head, like everyone else's seemed to be doing this morning. "What rumour have they spread around about us this time? I swear, if it involves anything to do with the canteen and the low hygiene rating it received somebody is going to lose a tooth."

Clove is silent. She shakes her head, green eyes ping ponging between both myself and Peeta. Her expression is so grave it makes me feel uneasy. Clove is usually so put together, only a very select few things could throw her off point.

"Come on then!" I exclaim. "What could possibly be that bad?"

Clove moves away from the locker and directs her gaze to Peeta before speaking. Maybe it's because she knows he won't flip his lid like I will and will have a sense of calm about the situation. "It's Glimmer," she says.

"What about her?" Peeta asks, putting his hand on my shoulder in an attempt to shimmer me down.

"She . . ." Clove sighs and closes her eyes. "She's telling people that you had a threesome with Finnick. That you're gay and are trying to cover it up by the 'bi sexual' excuse, leaving Katniss so desperate for a screw that she laced Finnick into it with you guys."

My face twists with disgust. I place my hand on top of Peeta's and say, "That's vulgar!"

"It's not the worst," Clove says.

I frown. "What could possibly be worse than that?"

I catch on a millisecond before Clove answers me and my heart stops in my chest before she has even spoken. "She says that that is how you got pregnant."

My hands fly to my mouth in a mixture of horror, anger and fear. I burst into tears, unable to control myself. This is what I had been scared of since day one. This is what I had been worried about. I didn't want people to find out until I was huge, I'm not ready to face it now. And the fact that Glimmer thinks that she can dirty the conception of my baby makes everything so much worse.

I gravitate to Peeta and he hugs me without question. I sob these disgusting, ugly sobs in the middle of the school corridor, not caring who sees or what rumours become of it. What else could they possibly say about me? About us? They've not only ruined me, but they've destroyed Peeta too. Glimmer has outted him as gay, even though he isn't, and basically told people that he fancied Finnick.

Finnick! There's always been rumours about people he's screwed, even when he left the football jocks and started openly dating Annie. They were trying to convince Annie that he was still a whore but she knew better. Even though Annie is too clever to believe the rumours that we had a threesome, it won't help Finnick's reputation get mended.

Clove decides that the best thing for us is to get a cup of tea before classes start so we head to the canteen together. Peeta walks with his arm around me and I stay nestled into his side, sniffling like a broken child. I want to have my hand on my stomach because that never fails to comfort me, like the security that my child is safe and well despite everything is an aesthetic of sorts, but I can't because that would just seem like I'm playing up the rumour.

People still stare. Anyone's eyes linger too long and Clove tells them to clear off, but she can't shout at everyone. News travels fast, impossibly fast, I know from the days I used to spread lies about people. Maybe this is it. Maybe my breaking my leg wasn't the comeuppance. Or the pregnancy. Maybe everyone looking at me like I'm a whore; like my boyfriend is an insecure sexually confused prick; that our relationship is a sham; and my baby was conceived under such vulgar, carnal circumstances; is my comeuppance. The karma for how I used to treat people.

When we arrive at the canteen, Clove opens the door and gestures for us to go through first. We do and she follows us in behind.

The first thing I see is Glimmer, standing on a table near the middle of the room, spewing her tales of sin and horror. "And you know what's disgusting?" the bleach blonde bitch yells to everyone listening to her (which is nearly the entire canteen) "She was probably going to try to convince us that it was some immaculate conception or some shit like that. Oh little saint Katniss wouldn't have sex, especially not with her boyfriend, who I'm surprised can even hold his own weight let alone have the energy to fuck anything."

There's a tremor of chuckling throughout the room.

"What is this?" Clove mutters angrily. "Storytime?"

"I'm not listening to this," I reply, turning around with Peeta and moving back to the door.

"Uh, Glimmer, there's Katniss there," someone says.

When I glance over my shoulder, I see a flicker of fear flash across Glimmer's green eyes. She used to be my friend, she knows what I'm capable of when I get angry enough. With Clove by my side, too, we could easy knock her right off the table. Trying to look brave, Glimmer's eyes harden and she says, "Is it true, Katniss? Are you preggers?"

Every single eye, once again, is on me. I don't want to lie. There's no point in it anymore. If I lied now then when I got bigger later and gave birth then it would just make matters worse. "How is that any of your business?" I ask wearily.

"Well, we'd like to know if there's a slut in our midst!" a voice pipes up behind Glimmer. I don't even know the guy, and I'm sure Glimmer doesn't either, but she smirks when he backs up her case.

"Just because a person is pregnant it doesn't mean they're a slut," I say tiredly.

Glimmer's face looks malicious as she asks, "Doesn't it?"

"Glimmer," Peeta says, surprising me by actually involving himself in a spat, a thing he doesn't do unless it gets violent, "Are you a virgin yourself?"

"What?" Glimmer spits, confused.

"A person gets pregnant by having sex so, logically, by saying that someone who is pregnant is a slut then it means that you're shaming everyone who has sex in some shape or form," says Peeta. He raises his eyebrows. "So are you a virgin?"

"No!" another guy hollers from the back of the room.

Glimmer flushes bright red. She stomps off the table and declares, "So you're basically saying that you are pregnant!"

"You know what Glimmer?" I shout, fed up. "Yes, I am! I'm pregnant, okay? You got what you wanted! I got pregnant in September and I'm due in May!"

This causes a stir. Glimmer looks slightly shocked, clearly having not actually believed it. That means she was just saying it for the sake of it. To try to make me and Peeta look bad. Gale, who had been sitting at the table Glimmer was standing on, stands up. "You weren't dating Mellark in September," he says. Glimmer's face falls as her threesome rumour starts to fall apart at the Seams. "Who's the father?"

I don't know what to say. My eyes lock on Marvel, who I'm horrified to see has been sitting at the same table as Glimmer, listening to her tell lies about me and our baby. He looks right at me and I plead with him silently to back me up, not to abandon me in this situation, to not force me to act like its Peeta's, when it's obviously not, because that is something I'd never do.

"Don't tell me it's some freak you don't even know!" Glimmer cackles.

"Shut up Glimmer!" Clove shouts back.

Marvel shakes his head at me.

My hands go to my stomach as I realize how much he really doesn't care. He won't defend my honour and, more importantly, our baby's honour. I look at my growing stomach and try not to let this knowledge hurt me. I had always known that when it came down to the crunch Marvel would not risk his reputation, that's why I didn't bother to ask him to join our cause against Snow. Risk his reputation, even for his unborn child? Unheard of!

"It's mine," Peeta says, his hand finding mine. I look at him with horror. No. No. No. No. No. "You're right, we weren't dating in September but if you remember correctly it was after Cashmere's party that we began to get close to each other. And when was Cashmere's party?"

"September!" Glimmer declares, throwing her hands up as if it all makes sense now. "I knew it!"

I turn around and make Peeta look at me. "Don't do this," I whisper quietly.

Peeta smiles. "Don't worry about me," he answers.

"I always worry about you," I growl in response.

"I thought you said Mellark was gay, Glimmer," someone asks.

"I'm fucking sick of this," Cato suddenly announces, pushing past Gale and Glimmer. "He's not bloody gay and I'm not having this rumour going around just because Gale's annoying blonde bimbo wants the gossip. Any idiot who thinks that he's gay clearly can't see how hocked up on love potions or mushrooms or whatever those two are smoking to make them so smitten with one another they are."

Peeta sighs and reluctantly removes his gaze from me to address the rest of the students in the canteen. "For what has to be the billionth time this year, I am not gay; I am not straight; I am bi sexual. Not that it's any of your business anyway. It's quite fascinating how much you people claim to hate me yet at the same time you're so invested in my life choices. How about instead of being so interested in my sexuality and the things that me and Katniss do with our lives, address your own life choices. You never know, you might find out what's wrong with you there."

The room is silent.

"Can we go now?" asks Peeta.

We don't wait for an answer. We just leave.

We're just leaving the canteen when the door swings open and someone follows us out. It's the mutt-ly trio themselves; Glimmer, Gale and Cato. Two more people follow after them and I see that it's Delly and Madge, both looking really concerned. "Can't you just leave us alone?" I ask, backing away with my hand still clutching Peeta's. Clove has taken stance in front of us, having predicted a fight before the other half has even spoken a word.

"The food chain makes it very clear that those at the bottom need to be punished when they act out against the top," Gale explains. I don't know whether he's bothered by us shaming Glimmer in front of the entire canteen or if he's angry at Peeta for basically voicing what the rest of us are thinking.

"You're taking the food chain idea a bit too seriously, don't you think Gale?" Delly asks anxiously.

"Does defending my identity now classify as acting out?" Peeta asks. "Great, good to know, thanks."

We bump into a dead end, the turning to exit the canteen foyer being to the right of us instead of straight ahead. Glimmer lunges in and starts clawing at Clove, her rage at her rumour being destroyed the very day it took off clearly having caused anger to froth over. Clove easily fights back, landing much more strategic punches and kicks than Glimmer. It does, however, cause a great distraction for Gale to slip in.

"Are you really going to do it Gale?" I hiss. "Are you really going to hit a pregnant girl?"

"No," said Gale. "But I'm going to hit her whore boyfriend."

He lifts his fist and I can instantly tell where he's going to attempt to hit Peeta. Fear consumes me and I scream, "Don't hit him! His pacemaker!"

Peeta crosses his arms in front of his chest to protect the device that is saving his life. Gale scowls and aims down lower, maybe in an attempt to wind him. I grab Peeta and drag him out of the way, causing myself to get squished against the adjacent wall. Gale's fist connects with the wall and he roars with pain.

He turns on us, grey eyes dark and stormy. "You're going to regret that."

"Gale!" Madge shouts, causing everything to grind to a halt. Glimmer even stops, causing Clove to push her to the floor with a vengeful grunt. "Stop it!"

"Fuck off, Madge, you're not in charge of me anymore!" Gale snaps back.

"Leave them alone right now or I'll tell them about Madrid!" Madge yells, making sure Gale understood what she was talking about 100%. Whatever she was threatening, it worked. Gale almost looked afraid as he backed away from us and left the foyer, grabbing Glimmer by the arm and dragging her away with him. That left Cato, who stood there for a moment, not exactly looking as angry as his friends had been. Maybe just a little pissed off.

"I don't care about you two," he tells us, "just stay out of my way."

When Cato returned to the canteen, Madge went to Clove. "Are you alright?" she asks, doing what Peeta and I should really be doing. But both of us are frozen, stuck to the spot with terror. When is this nightmare going to end?

"I want to join." My eyes flicker up to Delly, who is still standing by the canteen doors. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets and she's staring at the floor sheepishly. "Your cause. Whatever you need from me, count me in. I can act like I'm still one of them, find stuff out. Things we can use against them later."

"Me too," Madge decides. "Gale is taking things too far. Especially since he got attached to that gossiping tramp."

Clove thanks them. I'm too shocked too. Peeta put everything on the line for me. He told everyone that he's the father of my baby, to protect whatever we could salvage of my honour because Marvel couldn't. I turn into him and hug him tight. "You shouldn't have done that," I tell him.

"It's okay," Peeta simply says, smiling into my hair. "I'll always protect you."

I know one thing: I have a lot to say to Alma.

 **A/N: The plot definitely moves along in the next chapter when Katniss talks to Coin. Things start to kick off big time!**

 **Please R &R with your thoughts (:**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"Ah, Ms Everdeen," Alma smiles when I enter her office. Her eyes immediately go to my stomach, as if I've swallowed a beach ball and it's entirely noticeable. Surely, it isn't that bad? If the students at District High needed to be told that I'm pregnant without picking it up themselves then I am most definitely not showing too bad yet. "You've grown since I've last seen you."

I don't know whether to take this as a compliment or not. I sit down in front of her desk, forcing myself not to feel intimidated. Last time I was here, all of my friends were with me and I only did some of the talking. Now I'm on my own and I feel like a lost puppy. What if I mess this up for us? "Why do you want to speak to me? Peeta is the one who convinced you to help us," I ask her.

Alma taps her pencil against the side of her face thoughtfully. "You're right, it was Mr Mellark who convinced me to help. However, last I heard he'd been admitted to hospital."

The memory of Peeta collapsing against his desk in Seneca's class comes to mind and I shudder. "He was," I say. "But they gave him a pacemaker. He's been improving greatly since then." It's amazing how well the pacemaker has been working for Peeta. I don't know why they didn't give it to him sooner, really. It would have saved us a lot of hassle in regards to his heart's strength and how it affected him.

"And the anorexia . . . ?" Alma enquires.

"Since his heart has been improving, he's been eating regularly," I explain, unable to stop smiling because it's difficult to hide how proud I am of Peeta and his progress. I'm watching him more carefully than before, which is increasingly easy since he now lives with me and my family. Sometimes it's hard, and I have to cradle him in my arms as he begs me not to make him do it; that he was just going to get fatter; and eating was never going to solve his problem; but we get through it together.

Alma tsks and I'm shocked to realize that she's disappointed. "So I suppose we can't use that as fuel anymore," she sighs.

"Well, the fact that he was anorexic in the first place could be considered fuel," I suggest.

Alma doesn't look convinced. Her eyes are rather disturbing and I feel uncomfortable when she focuses the beady pupils on me. "No, it won't have the same effect," she mutters. She throws her pencil onto the desk and crosses her arms with authority. "At least you're still pregnant. If you were a coward then we mightn't have a case at all."

"Coward?" I frown. "I'm not brave just because I haven't gotten rid of my baby. Girls who have abortions mainly do it because they're frightened, or scared, or aren't ready. I just didn't think I could go through with it . . . I'm not brave, I'm more of a coward than anyone, trust me. Not because I'm keeping the baby, or because I'm too frightened to get an abortion . . . More because I can't face the fact this baby doesn't deserve me. That I don't deserve them."

Alma hums with boredom. "Whatever," she says, throwing my speech away and leaving me feeling a little stupid for having such a dramatic outburst. "You're still pregnant, that's all that matters."

I look down at my bump. As unnoticeable as it may be, I am able to make out the curve of the bump beginning to show. I'm chubbier that I used to be, hence why Glimmer probably spotted it before anyone else, but how she had been able to jump to the conclusion of pregnancy I'll never know. Then again, it's Glimmer. By the nonsensical fairy tale she came up with to describe how I got to this point suggests that she was simply going by her gut instinct. And Glimmer's gut instinct isn't exactly the most reliable thing to go by. Makes you wonder why the students believe the shit she says.

"I don't want to use my baby as some weapon to bring Snow down," I say uncertainly. "Isn't there another way?"

"We won't be using your baby, Katniss," Coin assures. "We'll be using the fact that the man you got pregnant by was a nitwit due to Snow's negligence."

I scoff. "I'm beginning to believe that he was a nitwit before Snow's negligence," I mutter, remembering how Marvel had been unwilling to own up as the father of my baby. "There was an incident in the cafeteria the other day, where my baby's father wouldn't admit he was, well, my baby's father. So Peeta had to do it."

Coin raises her eyebrows, intrigued. "How did that come to pass?"

"A daft girl from my year who's had a vendetta against me for ages decided to make up a rumour about me being pregnant, thinking it was fake instead of real," I explain. "She concocted a lot of other rubbish about Peeta and myself and even Finnick but I'd rather not go into detail about that. When she found out that it was true . . . People demanded to know who the father was. They didn't know it was Marvel, and when the idiot refused to stand up and take responsibility, Peeta did it instead."

Alma leans forward in her seat. "Your school has become quite the soap opera," she comments.

"Tell me about it," I say, rolling my eyes.

"And Snow has just been letting all of this happen?" Alma asks.

I shrug. "I don't know if he knows about me being pregnant," I admit. "Although, I don't doubt he'll ignore it, since the idea of his ex-head cheerleader being up the spout will probably disgust him. I wouldn't be surprised if he eggs Glimmer on behind the scenes, telling her what to say." I know this isn't true, and I'm exaggerating slightly, but Alma seems to take to the idea quite fondly.

"He's a nasty piece of work," Alma agrees. I open my mouth to tell her that I was exaggerating but she moves on before I can. "When do you get off for Christmas?"

"Next week," I say. "Why?"

"Is this anything on in January within the school?" asks Alma. "Like a dance or a fete or a fair of some sort?"

"There's the craft fair at the local park," I answer, confused. "Why?"

"We're going to stage something. Something big. Something that will expose Snow for who he really is," Alma explains. "This craft fair sounds like the perfect setting. Parents and students will be there, am I right?"

I nod slowly, unsurely. "Um, yeah, I guess so," I say. "I don't exactly know for sure but there usually is."

"And I'll make sure the rest of the Education Board are there." Alma has begun to scribble down some notes, the tip of her biro pen a blur as it practically slashes the pages to pieces. "If we expose Snow, then I'll take over temporarily, and I'll whip your school back into shape. You just make sure that your band of rebels are there, ready to take action."

"How do we fit into this?" I question. "What are you planning to do? How will you expose Snow at a craft fair? It's not exactly anything special. Maybe if you waited until the end of the year. Until Prom night or something, that would make more sense"-

"Too far away," Coin says flippantly. "We need to do this now, as soon as possible."

Suddenly, I remember what Boggs told me. He told me to weary of Coin, because she was willing to do anything to overthrow Snow. That Coin was more involved in this situation than she lets on. "Coin, you say you went to school with Snow," I say, "how did you both know each other? Were you friends or something?"

Coin's pen freezes and I immediately feel sick. I'm unsure why but a feeling of dread falls upon me as I realize that I may have just asked the wrong thing. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to ask personal questions?" Coin asks, resuming her writing.

"No," I answer stubbornly. I'm not technically lying. My mother and I were never put into a situation where she would have to tell me such a thing. "Although I don't understand why such a question would be considered personal."

"If you want this situation dealt with then I suggest you quit worrying about me and more about the problem at hand," Coin mutters irritably. I raise my eyebrows, knowing that I have somehow struck a nerve with the woman. I don't push the issue further, knowing that if I do then I will probably be risking Coin's support of our cause.

I will, however, be keeping a close eye on her from now on.

~xXx~

I voice my concerns to Peeta that night. We sit on the sofa, putting off the amount of time we take before having to get up and drag the sofa bed out. It's a bit of a squash but if I lie with my head on his lap and my legs hanging over the other end, we fit just fine. While I talk, he pushes his fingers through my hair and plays with my braid thoughtfully.

"It just seemed fishy to me, that's all," I finished.

"I see your point," Peeta agreed. "You're right, it does strike me as odd that she wasn't willing to explain herself. I wouldn't worry yourself too much about it though. There's no point getting stressed out about something when we don't even know the full story."

I want to bring up what Boggs told me and how Coin's behaviour matches what he said. I don't want to worry Peeta with it though, especially when Coin is still trying to help us. The second she tries anything that could put us endanger or hurt us like Boggs had told me . . . Then I'll say something. My desire to overthrow Snow is too strong for me to wish to cut Coin off just yet. Besides, maybe she just doesn't want to tell us why she doesn't like Snow. I can understand the want to hide things from people.

"When do you guys put up your Christmas decorations?" Peeta asked, trying to divert the conversation away.

"Six days before Christmas," I answer. Peeta pulls a face and I chuckle. "Why? Is that a problem?"

"It's so late," Peeta says incredulously.

"Six days before and they stay up six days after," I explain. "The twelve days of Christmas!" Peeta still looks unconvinced. His shock at our lack of Christmas cheer is amusing. "I can't do anything about the decorations. It's a tradition my dad started _but_ there is something you could do, if the lack of festivities is upsetting you so much."

"What's that?" asks Peeta.

"Well, my Granny Everdeen used to do this thing when Prim and I were kids, where she'd stir up this sort of . . . mixture. I never knew what it was, I'll have to ask my mum about it, but she'd always let us have a stir of it and we'd make a wish," I explain. "It wasn't edible or anything but the smell used to fill the house and it would always remind me of Christmas. We haven't done it since Granny died."

"You're talking about Christmas Wish Mix," said Peeta.

"Maybe?" I frown. "Do you know how to make it?"

"I do," Peeta replies. He grins. "Why, do you want me to make some?" When my face lights up at the idea, he laughs. "I can make it edible, too, if you like."

I reach up and grab his face, holding him firmly so our eyes meet. "Peeta," I say seriously, "that would be so amazing. Like, seriously, not only will I fall in love with you but Prim and my mum will too."

Peeta's blue eyes flicker and he smiles sheepishly. "It's honestly not that big a deal. I could easily go down to the Square tomorrow and get the stuff I need for it. I can make it for your mum coming home from her Saturday shift. It might be a nice surprise for her, especially since she's been working so hard and I've become the basic equivalent of a squatter."

"You're not a squatter," I scold. The idea of my mother coming home to the smell of Christmas Wish Mix tomorrow does sound nice. I grow more and more excited by the idea and nod rapidly. "This needs to happen. I want her to know that Prim and I appreciate the work she does for us."

"That shouldn't be a problem, really," says Peeta. He leans over and kisses me. I stroke the side of his face and smile against his mouth.

"You're amazing," I tell him.

Peeta scoffs and presses his lips against my forehead. "Don't get me started on how amazing you are," he murmurs. "It would take way too long."

I brush my knuckles across his jaw, giggling childishly at how his stubble tickles my skin. He hasn't been back home and we're yet to go shopping together, meaning he hasn't shaved for about a week now. It's on our to-do list to go get him some things (since we're in a previous all-girl household you can see how we'd need to get some male products for him) but there just hasn't been enough time. My mum wants to come with us to get Peeta some stuff (Semira would only let her get the bare essentials from the bakery, despite Peeta's dad's protests) but her shifts just haven't allowed it yet. Peeta doesn't like that my mum feels like she is responsible for him now-he doesn't want to be a burden-but it can't be helped. Besides, he's far from a burden. In fact, he does more around the house in one day than Prim and I do in a month.

"Oh ew, get a room."

I look across the room and find Prim standing in the doorway, her face scrunched up with disgust. Peeta straightens up, sheepishly brushing the hair out of his eyes and avoiding making contact with my sister's. "Technically this is Peeta's room now," I fire back.

"No, it's the family room," Prim smirks, crossing the room and sitting on the armchair beside the sofa. "The family room that Peeta just so happens to sleep in each night. You want to canoodle, go somewhere else. I want to watch Game of Thrones in here."

"I thought you watched t.v in the Conservatory," I frown.

"The radiator's broken in there and it's freezing," answers Prim. She flicks the television on, immediately going to our planner and searching for her recorded episodes of Game of Thrones. "It's supposed to snow sometime this weekend."

Urgh. Snow. I'm sick of that word.

"Winer is coming," Prim says, laughing at herself as if she said something hilarious. She notices Peeta and I's blank expressions and scowls. "Muggles."

"What?"

Peeta keeps me supported as I heave myself out of his lap and cross my legs on the sofa beside him. "I understand the muggle part, that's Harry Potter," he says. "I don't understand what was so funny though . . ."

"Rory would get the joke."

"Yeah, well, he isn't here," I mutter, not keen on being reminded about any of the Hawthornes, even the nice ones.

Prim flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder and switches on the episode at the top of the recordings. "Rory told me what Glimmer told everyone at your school," she says, her blue eyes moving from side to side as she fast forwards through the commercials. "He heard them discussing it in Gale's room." She pauses the t.v and looks at me seriously. "Is that sort of behaviour that I have ahead of me?" she asks.

I realize, with surprise, that my sister is scared. The only person she knows who has gone through District High is me and my stories about the past few months haven't exactly been the most encouraging. Then there's Rory's knowledge through what he hears from Gale and Glimmer. Again, not exactly the pinups for good behaviour.

"No, it's not," Peeta says firmly. I wish I had his confidence in the matter.

Instead of saying anything, I get off the sofa and squeeze into the chair beside Prim, wrapping my arms around her in a hug. My sister lets her head rest against my shoulder, the action so small and vulnerable that it makes my heart stutter in my chest. "So," I say through a suddenly sore throat, "what exactly is this programme?"

Prim grins and presses play. "Don't get attached to anyone," she warns me. "The minute you like someone, they'll be dead within the next episode."

"Whoa, heavy warning," Peeta says.

"You'll understand when we get through the series," Prim answers, confident in the fact that we'll get so hooked that we'll want to watch the entire series.

I never noticed how much I missed this until now. Sitting in the family room and watching television with the people I love. When I took on cheerleading, that was all put on hold. Now I deeply regret it. For all I know, I've missed out on important parts of my sister's life simply because I wanted to become Head Cheerleader for the Last Game of the Season in my Senior Year.

Well, not anymore.

It's about damn time I became part of this family again.

 **A/N: I'll be taking my Christmas hiatus from December 19** **th** **-January 4** **th** **. None of my stories will be updated during this time :/**

 **Please R &R with your thoughts on this chapter ^_^**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Peeta is beginning to grate on my nerves.

Okay, not Peeta personally-he hasn't done anything wrong-but just his presence irritates me for reasons that aren't exactly the most pure.

My hormones have begun to jumble a little. I've been bursting into tears over the most random of things and getting really mad over the stupidest of things. My family give me a wide berth when I get like this, Peeta coming in near the end to calm me down, but when he's the problem it's hard to come down from. Especially when he can't help what he's doing that's bugging me.

He can't help being himself.

Portia's warning has been running rings around my head recently. About being hormonal and wanting to have sex and how I have to talk to Peeta about it because we need to have a mutual understanding about how it's going to work from now on. I don't want to talk to him about it, though, because I feel like he would blame himself for not being able to give me what I'm craving. And that's not what I want, or would be what I'm trying to say to him. It's gotten to the point, however, where I feel like he needs to know what's going on. That I am getting angsty because my hormones are everywhere and I might need space sometimes to either calm down or . . . relieve myself.

I'm not exactly the most coy of people, anyone who's met me knows that I'm quite comfortable in my body and with who I am. Maybe a bit too comfortable, if I'm honest. I would have no problem doing that sort of thing with my boyfriend in the room. I have never had a serious relationship, though, where I have a deep desire to make sure that my boyfriend is happy and healthy and comfortable. Hence why I have been sneaking around a lot trying to hide from Peeta the fact that I'm . . . well . . . horny. For him. Like, it's rather embarrassing how desperate I've gotten.

Sex has never ruled my life. It had just been something that had been there as a factor. I had plenty of sex-which I suppose isn't the most admirable of things-before I did it with Marvel and it's certainly not something I'm newly exposed to. Not having it for such a long period of time, though . . . It's not that I need it desperately like an addict would need a fix, but I have begun to miss it a little. Not in the way that I would have done before. If I had been my old self I probably would have just went to one of Cashmere's bashes and found an attractive guy to take to her parents' room. Now I want it with my boyfriend; the man that I've grown to care about so much because I have gotten to know him and have fallen for his personality and his genuine desire to keep the people he too cares about safe and happy.

I want it with Peeta.

I respect that he's not ready. I really, really do. That doesn't exactly make my hormones go 'Oh, that's fine, Katniss, I'll leave you be then'. Sadly that's not how the body works. So I've started taking care of it myself. When my family are out, of course. I wouldn't dare do it with my family in the house. The only risk is Peeta finding out because every time I'm in the house, he is too. I don't mind that either, it's not like the both of us have many places to go. Thankfully though, Peeta has developed a welcome casualness to being a part of my home and an active member of the family and doesn't feel uncomfortable sitting in the living room watching T.V while I take a nap in my room anymore.

Well . . . I used to nap anyway.

Peeta has been putting on weight well. He's eating three meals a day and is slowly beginning to fill out his clothes again. There are some difficult days. Days we fight and I have to force him to sit at the kitchen islet to eat-a tactic that can only be used if he's not in a vulnerable position and is just trying to be difficult with me. I know his anorexia isn't just going to go away but I'm thankful for the improvements he has been making over these past few months.

I can hardly believe we've been dating for nearly three months now.

I will never reach a point of such desperation that I will force Peeta to fuck me. Never will that happen. I don't care if I end up humping a tree I'm that thirsty for it, I would rather do that than make Peeta do something he isn't comfortable with. I want him to enjoy it as much as I do, and feel good when we finally do it. I want him to know how sexy I think he is when we're doing it, not be constantly trapped in his head, telling himself that he's too fat or not good looking enough. He would have no problem making me feel good, I know that for sure, but he needs to understand that I will want him to feel the same way. It will be for the both of us, not just me, hence why I've been hiding my angstiness from him. Because I know if he knew, he would try to give me what 'I need'. But that's not what I want. I want it to be something we are both mutually ready for.

That is why he's been grating me.

It's probably my pregnancy talking, but everything that man does has been acting like an aphrodisiac to me these past couple of days. I swear, I feel like he's doing it on purpose sometimes. We're still intimate. We still kiss and sleep in the same bed and stuff but I've been craving more recently, like a greedy child who wants more sweets. I don't even know how to begin a conversation with Peeta about it though because I know he'll want to do it just to make me happy. Which is sweet, but it would feel like an obligation in my eyes if he doesn't want it too.

It's not just his actions or his body that have been turning me either. His fucking mind has been getting me going too. Like he could literally say something semi-intelligent and I would get flustered. One evening he was helping Prim with her holiday homework and I was ready to jump over the coffee table like a cougar. Urgh the way his glasses slip down his nose and he has to push them up . . .

Peeta nearly caught me once. Prim had been out on a date with Rory and Mum was at work. I had told him that I was tired and was going for nap, which he was fine with and left me to it. I got straight into my bed; wiggled out of my skirt and pants; and started touching myself.

I'll admit, the situation we were in that led me to this point didn't exactly help the position I'm in right now: Prim got us hooked on Game of Thrones and we've been watching the recordings she has on the T.V. Usually, when we're watching it, when a sex scene comes on I get flustered, but there's often a death or a gory scene a few minutes later to dampen any arousal I may feel. However, this time there wasn't. So as soon as it ended I upped sticks and went to my room. It shocks me how cool and calm Peeta seems to be when someone naked comes on screen or when there's a particularly erotic interaction going on. Like there's literally no reaction from him. Maybe an offhand comment about the setting or the lighting or writing or something ludicrous like that. He couldn't be that oblivious, could he?

The only thing that saved me from being caught was the fact that Peeta stubbed his toe on the way to the room. I heard him curse and barely had a chance to straighten out before came in and simply had to throw the quilt over myself and pretend to be asleep. It worked, thankfully, but I try not to get so lost in the moment that I forget he's in the house again. It would just open up a confusing can of worms.

Even now, I'm watching him make the Christmas Wish Mix for my mother and I'm feeling a little hot. When I get this flustered, I know it's definitely because of the baby. Not that Peeta wouldn't get me going if I wasn't pregnant, but I doubt I would be so eager for it so often if I wasn't. The fact that he's wearing a pink apron doesn't help. I don't know what it is but even though it's pink, it looks pretty damn good on him.

"So have you made this before?" I cringe at how strained my voice sounds.

"I've watched my dad make it a few times," Peeta answers. He pushes his glasses up his nose and I resist the urge to scowl. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. "I'm a fast learner and can easily pick things up from watching others do it first."

I decide to look at what he's doing instead of his face while he's doing it because it's not helping my predicament at all. Except, watching his hands as he mixes and manipulates a cake mixture doesn't exactly dampen my desire.

"So you've done the wishing thing?" I ask. "Like, where you get the spoon and you have a stir and make a wish?"

Peeta nods. "Yeah, my brothers and I got to make a wish on it."

"What did you wish for?"

"You know telling people means that it won't come true," Peeta teases.

I roll my eyes. "That's just a myth." I laugh and shake my head, "I used to wish for snow every year."

Peeta laughs too. "I suppose its okay for me to say because it's already come true," he says.

I raise my eyebrows with interest. "Oh?"

He turns sheepish, his face turning a deep shade of strawberry red. "I wished each year to somehow get to know you," he admitted.

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

Damn him.

"I never dared wish that you would like me enough for you to want to be my girlfriend, though," Peeta continues. "I felt like that would have been asking for too much."

Urghhhh damn him!

I lean across the islet and kiss him, savouring the experience because I know I can't let it go further. His lips are a bit chapped and I'm tempted to lick them but physically restrain myself from doing so. As much as I want to, I know I can't do it.

"I shouldn't have wasted my wishes," I huff as I pull back. "I mean, snow? Now I fucking can't stand the idea of snow because 1) the word itself makes my stomach churn and 2) it's a bloody nuisance."

"Whoa, you definitely see the glass as half empty, don't you?" Peeta chuckled.

I nod. "Painfully so."

"Well," Peeta pushes the bowl over to me and passes me the spoon, "now you've got another chance."

I take the spoon into my hand and dig into the mixture. I stir vigorously, because what I'm wishing for is extremely important and I really need it to come true. Closing my eyes, I inhale slowly and murmur silently to myself, _"I wish for Peeta to get better."_ Maybe I'm asking for too much. Maybe the improvements he has already made are all I'm going to get. However, I won't ever pass up an opportunity to wish for him to get even better. For him to maybe be able to look himself in the mirror someday and be proud of how he looks. To see what I see. To like his appearance again.

"You're stirring it awkwardly," Peeta chuckles when I open my eyes. He walks around to my side of the islet and encloses me in his arms as he takes my hands and shows me how to do it properly. The closeness of his body to my own, and how I can feel his breath against my neck, causes me to shudder involuntarily. Oh what I wouldn't give to be able to demand to be thrown on top of the islet and taken right here right now . . .

Okay, no. Even if Peeta and I were having sex by now, that would be extremely unethical. I can't be thrown anywhere while I'm pregnant and Peeta can't support his weight because of a mixture of his illness and the pacemaker in his chest. Besides, mum would have a canary if she ever found out that we did that in the kitchen. I mean, she's barely able to cope with the idea of us sharing a bed, let alone screwing where she cooks.

"How can you stir awkwardly?" I huff, letting him show me how to do it properly.

"Well, the way you were doing it you'd think you were digging a hole in the bowl," Peeta says.

"Maybe that's what I was going for," I say indignantly.

Peeta chuckles. "Well if that's what you're going for then you're doing a grand job," he compliments.

I smile and I can feel him doing the same, even though my back is to him. I press back, cocooning myself in his warmth. Peeta rests his chin on my shoulder as he continues to help me stir. My nerves are on fire, the feel of his strong, slightly calloused hands against mine making a fire bloom in my gut and not in relation to my baby dwelling in there.

"So what do we do now while we wait for my mum to get home?" I murmur. "There's no point cooking it because she and Prim have to make their wish still."

"I suppose we just put some cling film over the bowl and put it into the fridge so that it keeps," Peeta answers me. When he moves back and away, I'm shocked by how cold my back feels. I feel physically jilted, like he had pushed me into the island and smushed my face into the mix. Maybe our sharing a bed at night has caused me to want to be close to him always and having him pulled away so suddenly causes me to feel like a piece has been removed from me.

I watch Peeta wrap the bowl of mix in cling film. I liberate the spoon we were stirring it with and nibble on the mix that sticks to the wood. The fire is still there, flickering in my stomach, even something has mundane as eating mix from a spoon fuelling it. My eyes don't stray from my boyfriend, who's obliviously putting the bowl of mix into the fridge. Even if we don't have sex, I need to take some form of step with him. Even if we tried and he decided he didn't like it, I would stop. Maybe the fact that we tried would be enough to fan the flames ignited by my hormones.

Before I start licking the spoon like a wooden lollipop, I throw it into the sink. Peeta turns at the loud crash it creates as it knocks against the utensils he's left in there from making the mix. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. "You okay?" he asks.

I walk around the island and take his hands in mine. "Can we talk?" I ask. Peeta's eyes immediately widen in horror and mine mirror this as I realize what he thinks. "No, no! I'm not going to break up with you! I just want to talk to you about something."

Peeta relaxes, his panic now amusing to me. "Of course," he says, the words sounding like an exhale. He unties the pink apron and follows me to my room. We sit down on my bed and he takes my hands again, ready to hear anything I have to say.

"Before we start this conversation, I want you to know that you are not under any obligation to do anything," I say firmly. "If you force yourself, and I ever find out, I will never forgive myself, nor will I ever forgive you for ignoring what I just said. Understand?"

Peeta nods, his eyebrows slowly drawing together with confusion. "I guess?" he replies.

I don't know how to approach this. Should I be brash and upfront or gentle and honest? Which would he be more responsive to? "Peeta, I'm desperately horny," I blurt out. My face catches fire as soon as the final word is out of my mouth and I internally curse myself for behaving in such a way. Has my mouth got a mind of its own now?

Peeta's face looks like it's frozen in stasis. Oh my god I've broken him. I wave my hand in front of his eyes and exhale in relief when he blinks. "Oh," is all he says, his voice actually hilariously small.

"I don't want to have sex if that's not what you want," I immediately say, covering up my tracks. "But I would like to try to take our relationship a step further. Even if it's a baby step, I wouldn't mind! I just . . . my hormones are everywhere and it's making this fire ignite inside of me every time we watch Game of Thrones or you say something clever or you enclose me in your arms . . . Again, I have means of relieving this if you still aren't ready but I just thought I'd try to see if you were maybe up for trying to take it just even a tiny step further with me?"

Peeta seems to be processing what I'm saying. My heart is beating so fast inside my chest it's making me feel a little ill. "What did you have in mind?" he asks me.

Wait. Is he actually willing to discuss it? I thought he would say what he . . . always says. My fingers tighten around his, one part nerves the other part excited. "I don't know," I answer honestly. "Is there a boundary you aren't willing to cross yet?"

"I don't know if I would be ready for actual . . . y'know," he tells me. I nod my understanding, having expected it anyway. "If there is something you want to try, though, I'm willing to give it a shot."

My brain overloads itself with things you can do without having actual sex. I banish it all, knowing that even if it's not sex itself, whatever we do will still have a big impact on Peeta and will be very important to him. "You promise you'll tell me if you're uncomfortable, like you have done before? You won't force yourself just because you know that I want it due to my hormones?"

Peeta nods. "If I'm honest, I've been thinking the same thing. About taking another step with you. I just didn't know how you would feel about it, especially since my body isn't exactly at its most appealing stage."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Your body is at the healthiest stage that it has been at for a long time," I tell him. "I'm so proud of the progress you've made since the pacemaker was inserted. The fact that you're improving so greatly-that you're filling out again and eating every meal my mother cooks you-is so fucking hot to me you can't even begin to understand. Your determination to get better is what defines you, not how your body looks."

My words have made Peeta's face turn a cherry red colour. I think I lost him at the 'so fucking hot to me' part as he seems to be caught between an embarrassed rock and a turned on hard place. I smile and touch his face, unable to contain my chuckle as I feel how warm it is.

"Whatever happens between us, whether we even get through this step or not, you will still mean so, so much to me," I tell him.

Still flushed, Peeta asks, "So what exactly did you have in mind?"

It's in that moment, like I've been suddenly struck by lightning, that I decide. "How about we see each other in our underpants?" I suggest. Peeta instantly clams up. I stroke my thumb along his cheekbone, smiling comfortingly. "You can trust me," I say softly.

Peeta nods.

There is a great deal of vulnerability in not having clothes on. Not only is your physical form exposed to anyone in the room, but your very self is laid bare in front of whoever's eyes are on you. It enhances your assets; your flaws; your insecurities; and the parts of you that you are part of. People expose themselves to others without thinking too much about it. I know because I was one of them. Only recently, after having met Peeta and discovered his anorexia, have I begun to realize just how important exposing one's body can be.

We turn our backs to each other and do it. I have my clothes shed within a minute but it takes Peeta a while longer. I look down at my body while I wait, gulping with worry as I notice for the first time how my stomach is inflating. Trying to focus on something else, I hook my fingers into the waistband of my underpants and straighten them out, reaching behind me and doing the same for my bra strap. Such issues wouldn't normally worry me but because it's Peeta I'm showing myself to, and with every passing day I fall deeper and deeper into my care and affection for him, everything needs to be perfect, even though I know that he would think I'm perfect no matter what I look like.

Ever since my conversation with Peeta about my chest getting bigger, I've begun to notice that my bras are getting smaller. I just hope the fact that my skin is bulging around the strap a little isn't off putting for him. My cleavage has gotten impressive though and, despite my absolute surety that Peeta will like me no matter how good or bad I look, I'm tempted to snatch one of my push up bras and quickly change while his back is turned. I want to look my very best for him.

"You okay?" I eventually ask, hopping from one foot to the other anxiously.

"I've been ready for five minutes," Peeta answers quietly. "I just didn't want to say."

"Do you want to get dressed again?" I ask him.

"No. We have to do this. It's not just about your hormones anymore, it's about me taking a step away from my disease as well."

I smile. "You're right in a way but not if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Peeta says, even though his voice shakes.

"Can we turn around then?"

A small pause.

"Yes."

I spin on my heel, my eyes immediately going to where Peeta had stood when we turned around to strip. He does the same, his blue eyes meeting mine before looking anywhere else. I smile again, encouraging him that it's okay, and step closer, allowing my gaze to drift.

Last I saw Peeta's torso, I could count every single rib. This had been on Halloween night when Gale had punched him in the stomach. There has been ups and downs since then, what with Peeta's relapse and the pacemaker insertion. I am amazed by how well he has come since then. Instead of being able to count every rib, I can only make out faint bumps along one side and it's only when he breathes in. There is a bulge in his skin where his pacemaker sits.

Tears form in my eyes and I cover my mouth. Peeta looks mortified, the idea that simply looking at him has made me cry causing extreme disconcertion. "You look so good!" I cry. "You're so much better!"

Slightly relieved that the sight of him in his underpants hasn't reduced me to horrified tears, Peeta exhales. "Well . . . I suppose," he says sheepishly.

I force myself to get my act together and clear my throat pathetically. Propping my fists on my hips, my eyes sweep further down. He has a very pale complexion, similar to that of most merchants only somehow more appealing. There is the occasional bruise from the recent battles he's fought, and my breath catches in my chest when I notice a couple of his self-harming scars. Averting my gaze away, scared that I'll cry again if I focus too hard on them, I look somewhere else. I chuckle to myself, having always guessed that he'd wear boxers instead of briefs (yes, I thought about that sort of thing, so sue me).

"What do you think?" Peeta asks, a nervous twinge to his voice.

"Well, what do you think?" I tease, gesturing to myself with a flourish.

Peeta seems sort of baffled, unable to come up with the right adjective to portray his thoughts.

I step even closer, a playful smile on my face. "I think you're very sexy, Peeta," I say teasingly.

"I wish you had evidence to support that statement," Peeta says weakly.

I tut. How could I have expected any different of a response? "Well what about me then?" I ask. "What do you think?"

"I think you're beautiful," Peeta murmurs, his eyes sparkling with reverie. He leans down and kisses me, sparking that fire again inside of me. A sigh escapes my parted lips and I wind my arms around his neck, my hips instinctively leaning towards his. My heart is beating madly inside my chest as my fingertips graze the nape of his neck, the sensation causing him to shudder.

"I'm getting fat," I whisper when our lips part to allow air in.

"And what did you expect?" Peeta asks me, a teasing grin on his face. "You are pregnant, after all."

I slap his arm playfully, shaking my head with a smile on my lips. "Thanks," I scoff, pretending to be angry.

"You're still beautiful to me," Peeta says gently, brushing my hair back from my face.

I pull him towards me and allow our lips to touch again. We practically breathe for each other, both of us holding each other so tight, like someone is going to try to separate us. We nudge closer to my bed and collapse onto my mattress in a heap. My covers are slightly cold against my skin but it feels almost soothing.

Peeta can't support his weight on his arms because of where his pacemaker sits in his chest. When we've been making out for a while, just sitting on top of my bed cupping each other's faces and pushing fingers through our hair, I almost push him onto his back when I remember to stay my hand.

"Are you okay?" I whisper breathlessly, our mouths so close I can practically feel the words brushing his lips.

"I am," Peeta whispers back, sounding so nervous but so excited at the same time.

"Do you want to lie down? Is your heart still okay? What about your breathing, are you still good?" I question, no amount of arousal ever being able to dampen my worry about his health.

"I'm a bit breathless but that's to be expected, I'm guessing," Peeta replies with an easy going smile. The corner of his mouth twitches, ruining his calm façade completely. "My heart is just fine, though. Battering away like it would be if we were playing Monopoly. If not slower because you cheat and it makes me nervous when I'm running low on cash."

"I do not cheat!" I laugh. "How do you cheat at Monopoly?"

"It's rather easy to spot when Prim is trying to distract me so you can nab more money from the box," Peeta smirks.

I pull a face. Ooops. "You don't mind though," I say. "You'd have said otherwise if you didn't."

Peeta sighs dramatically. "Aye, well, the things I put up with," he says. "The labours of being a boyfriend."

"You love being a boyfriend," I tease, pushing my elbows past his shoulders so our faces are closer and I can play with his hair. His hands are on my waist, his touch burning my skin like flames.

"You got me there," Peeta answers, his gaze flickering down to my lips. He also takes an impromptu glance at my chest, feeling dirty once he'd down it and meeting my eyes again, behaving like he hadn't down it. I smirk at him and raise my eyebrows. His throat bobs as he gulps and he says, "Sorry."

"Don't be stupid," I scold. "They're there for you to look at."

"Technically, they're there for the feeding of a baby and are a natural part of the female anatomy. How males ever developed an interest in them I'll never know. It's similar to how girls aren't attracted to the smell of perfume but the smell of cologne, because it's a male orientated scent that attracts them, and then it's the other way around for men. I'd say it's probably part of evolution of the mind and what we're naturally hardwired to like and dislike but"-Peeta pauses and frowns. "I'm boring you, aren't I?"

"Actually," I say, using my pointer finger to push his glasses back up his nose for him, "you're sexy when you talk smart. I love it when you talk like this. You just sort of . . ." I mime soaring away like a bird with my hand . . . "Go off into your own little world. Can't get any hotter than being intelligent, despite popular opinion."

"Is that why you never do the work I set you?" Peeta laughs, a pink flush appearing on his neck and cheeks.

"Not my fault," I sniff.

"Whose fault is it then?"

Unable to come up with a reasonable answer, I distract him with another kiss. My lips move down his chin and to his neck, finding purchase on that sweet spot by his jugular that I know is always there waiting for me. Peeta's hands tighten on my waist and he draws me closer, a cute little wounded baby animal moan slipping out of his mouth.

"Do you want me to stop?" I ask, suddenly worried.

"I don't know what I want."

I can see the confliction in Peeta's eyes. Maybe he does want to go further, maybe he will be ready to have sex with me soon, but I can tell that there's still a mental war going on inside of him. This is the farthest he's ever gotten with somebody and I don't want to push him past his limit, for that may cause him to go back to that dark place. It only takes the smallest smidge of doubt to ruin everything.

"Lie with me," I murmur, crawling around him and nestling myself near the pillow of my bed. For a moment, he's unsure, his blue eyes ping ponging between myself and his clothes. I give him the open choice, not pushing or insisting for him to choose one or the other. I allow him to decide on his own what he is ready for.

Peeta meets me at the top of the bed and wraps his arm around me. I snuggle into his side, my head resting just below his pacemaker, and drag my duvet up to cover our bodies. I feel his hand on my arm and the other at the small of my back, his skin setting mine aflame like a struck match. I gently lay my hand on his stomach, letting my eyes close briefly to consume this moment here with him.

"You're perfect," I whisper, eyes still peacefully closed. "You always were."

"There's no such thing as perfect," he answers.

"So you think," is what I answer with, "because you can't see what I do. I'll help you try, as best I can."

Peeta's breath shudders inside of him, but he doesn't have an answer for this. For once, I've left him speechless, and for it to be on such a beautiful statement I can't stop myself from smiling. I feel his lips against the crown of my head and I lift it to meet his gaze.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asks me quietly.

I shake my head. "There's nothing to be deserved," I answer.

"Maybe you need help seeing some things too," Peeta says softly, tipping my chin with his pointer finger. He draws me in and, for a moment, we share a breath. It's warm and vulnerable at the same time and I vaguely smell the scent of cinnamon on his breath. Our lips meet and we kiss, taking our time to absorb the experience. Our mouths move together, like a well-oiled machine, and the hand I placed on his stomach is moving and he isn't stopping it. Beneath the sheets, where no one can see us, this moment is ours and ours alone.

My fingers brush against the waistband of his underwear and I could swear I feel soft, downy hairs, when suddenly we hear something outside. A chink in the front door. We share an alarmed look. "Fuck it's my mother!" I exclaim. All colour drains from Peeta's face as we hear the doorknob turn and my door sucks shut with the suction of the front door being open.

I leap over the bed and snatch my dressing gown from the back of my door. "You get into your pyjamas, I'll keep her distracted!" I whisper-hiss, already out the door before he can respond. As I walk up the hall to our living room, I pull my braid out of its elastic and shake it out, so Mum can't spot that it was in tangles. As I near the living room, I hear Prim arguing with Mum about something.

"But why not?" Prim complains, dragging shopping bags into the kitchen with my Mum in tow.

"Because it's inappropriate," Mum answers, clearly in complete mother mode judging by her firm tone.

"It's only one night!" Prim insists, dumping the bags onto the islet and taking the ones from Mum and repeating the action.

"Primrose, I said no."

"What's going on?" I ask.

Prim looks at me and scowls, like the very sight of me standing there annoys her. She groans, in all her teenage angst glory, and storms to her room. Mum sighs and rubs her eyes, flinching slightly when Prim slams the door. She goes to the front door and shuts it gently, closing us off from the cold outside.

"What's her problem?" I ask, approaching the counter and pulling the closest bag of shopping towards me to unload.

"She wants to have Rory over for a night over her Christmas vacation," Mum answers. I can see the exhaustion in her eyes; clearly she's been trying to explain to Prim why she can't allow her to do this the whole car ride home. "She won't listen to me."

"Why not?"

"She keeps using you and Peeta as an example," says Mum. "She knows why Peeta's here, that's not her problem, she just keeps asking why I'm allowing you both to sleep together at night. I think she believes I trust you more than her, which is unfair in her eyes because you're pregnant and she's not."

I slot the cereal into the cupboard and throw the crisps into the cabinet beside it. "Why don't you just explain to her how my nightmares don't come when I'm with Peeta?" I ask. "Prim knows about them, maybe she'd understand if we told her that when I'm with him they go away."

"Katniss, your sister is at a very awkward age," Mum explains. "I've tried explaining everything to her but she won't listen. In her mind, everything is unjust and everyone in this house is against her. I went through a similar phase with you, you know."

I don't doubt her when she says this. I close the cabinet and turn in Mum's direction. I'm struck by how tired she looks. Those extra shifts at the hospital, alongside all the drama here at home, can't be good for her. I wonder if they're giving her a Christmas break. They have to. She hasn't cashed in on any of her holidays for ages now . . .

Peeta emerges, dressed in his pyjamas like instructed. Thankfully, my mum is too caught up in the Primrose drama to notice that I'm in a dressing gown with my hair down and Peeta is in his pyjamas at six in the evening. I smile at him and he smiles back, instantly at the kitchen islet helping us unload the shopping.

"How was work Rose?" he asks.

"Oh, Peeta, you know, same old," Mum sighs with a wry smile. She takes the milk and goes to the fridge. Once she opens the door, she freezes. I stare at her as she slowly slides the milk into the compartment on the inside of the fridge door and takes the cling filmed bowl of wish mix out. "Is this what I think it is?" she asks.

"Uh," I say, walking around the islet to stand by Peeta's side anxiously, "yeah, it is. I told Peeta about grandma's wish mix and he said that he knew how to make it so we thought it would be cool to make some so you would be able to . . ." I wave my hands " . . . make a wish."

My mum closes the fridge and steps back, bowl still in her hands. "We haven't done this since your granny died," she murmurs, nearly to herself.

"Well we just figured because Christmas is just around the corner and all that"- I don't get to finish the sentence because Mum puts the bowl down, walks around the islet and encloses us both in a hug. I'm so surprised I just stand there, my head nearly nestled in the crook of her neck while my hands are trapped between her body and Peeta's. She smells of watermelon and sweat. A scent I'm surprised by how familiar it feels to me.

"Thank you," Mum whispers. "Really."

She steps back and smiles, tears glistening her blue eyes. I never realized how much this meant to her. I knew grandma did it, but I never thought about how since she had died my mum had no real piece of her. Now she did. It makes so much sense now. "So are we going to unwrap this or what?" she asks us.

"Here, Rose, let me do it," Peeta says, taking the bowl from her. Mum spins on her heel to get a spoon, her childish glee making me smile.

While her back is turned, and Peeta is unwrapping the bowl, I step closer to him and whisper, "Hope she didn't spot that hickey on your neck."

Peeta pauses with widened eyes, placing his hand over the spot where my mouth had previously been. "You're diabolical," he chuckles quietly, shaking his head with a contagious smile.

I grin sweetly as my mother returns with her spoon. "I try."

 **A/N: Ah, it feels good to be back!**

 **I have the entire plot of this story mapped out and planned, it's all just a matter of getting the chapters typed up now. I'm going to wait until I finish this before I start the ABC one shots for Kindred, just so that I'm not juggling loads of stories at once. It was okay when I just had this and Kindred to write but now I've got my Peetato works and my Malec story to focus on too. And I've got so many future ideas in my head! Argh, so much fanfiction, so little time!**

 **I hope you all had a lovely Christmas anyways and hope you achieve everything you set out to do this New Year (:**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Christmas has never been my most favourite holiday. The forced cheer has never gone down well with me and it doesn't help that it goes on for a whole month. On the day, I don't mind it. In fact, it's fun and I really enjoy it, it's just the weeks leading up to the it. This year it has been especially tedious, due to the fact that my mood swings have been getting worse. The excuse 'cheer up it's Christmas' doesn't exactly bode well when I'm carrying another being around in my stomach.

Christmas comes, as it always does. It's almost like I've blinked and missed most of December. I take sick on the actual day and apart from the morning, when Peeta convinces me to come out of bed to see Prim open her presents and for me to open mine, I don't move from my bed. I get a few bits and bobs; make-up and clothes; but nothing of major significance. I feel so ill that I don't even eat my mum's dinner, but she puts some of it into the microwave for me to eat when I'm better. I feel bad for lying in bed most of the day and hope dearly that I can make it up next year. I'll have to do something big. Something to make up for how much of a grumpy shit I've been this year.

It's dark and I'm feeling a little better. Prim is gone, she went to see Rory in the late afternoon, and my mum has went out with a few work friends. I hate myself for being so negative. I should have tried to haul myself out of bed, or at least carried the sick bucket around the house with me instead of behaving like a recluse.

There's a knock at my bedroom door and I grumble in response.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice floats in.

"What?" I mutter angrily.

The door opens and Peeta comes in. I nudge the duvet covers out of the way a little bit and glare out. Despite my regret, somehow I'm still in the mind-set of a brooding bitch. However, as soon as I lay eyes on him, in a Santa hat with a wire attached to the top that has mistletoe hanging from the end, it makes a massive smile break out across my face.

"Evening grumpy," he greets, crouching down by the bed and tapping my nose with his finger. He leans forward and tickles my face with his mistletoe. I snicker and bat it away. "You know what this means," he teases.

I shake my head and incline my head upwards, connecting our lips briefly. "So where did you get that from then?" I ask, pointing at his hat.

"I made it," Peeta answers, slapping the mistletoe out of the way of his face. He grins goofily. "Had to get a kiss from you somehow, even though you're Miss Grumpy Arse today."

I sigh and fall back onto my pillow again. "I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't be sorry," Peeta answers, stroking my face gently. "We understand."

"I'm feeling better now though," I say. "I just wish it had happened earlier so I could have spent some time with Prim before she went off with Rory. I didn't ruin it, did I?"

"You'd only have ruined it if you'd came barging in during dinner and started throwing plates about because the house smells weird or something ridiculous like that," Peeta chuckles. "You don't have to feel indebted to us for being in bed. You felt sick and went to bed, you're free of blame."

"But it's Christmas!" I groan into my pillow.

"Which your baby isn't aware of," Peeta reminds me, rubbing my back comfortingly. "It's hardly like he's thinking, 'Oh, it's Christmas, I'll leave her alone for today'. Your body is going to react the way it normally would any other day."

I frown into my pillow. "'He'?" I ask.

"Uh . . . yeah," Peeta admits, sheepishly batting the mistletoe away for the thousandth time. "I just have this kind of hunch that it's a boy."

The thought of Peeta thinking about the gender of my baby makes me smile. "I haven't really thought about it, to be honest," I say, rubbing my stomach. "But if you think it's a boy, then I'll go with that too. I should probably start borrowing baby name books from the library . . . Do I get to name him if I'm putting him up for adoption?"

"I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to . . ." says Peeta. "They need a name to put on the forms and stuff. He has to officially exist before he can be put up for anything."

I sit up and tap the side of my face with the tips of my fingers. A name, if it's a boy, just popped into my head. One that I would love to call my baby boy with all my being. "Should I consult Marvel?" I ask unsurely.

"Absolutely not," Peeta answers, heaving himself off the ground and seating himself beside me on the edge of my bed. "He lost all rights to having a say when he shook his head at you in the canteen. If he had manned up and stood up for you like a father should, I might be saying different. But he didn't and I'm not. Why, what are you thinking?"

The idea blooms in my chest like a rose in the spring. It makes me hope that it's a boy, so I can give him a piece of me that, even if he gets adopted by someone far far away from here, he will always have. "I want to name him after my father."

Peeta smiles. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

We hug. I don't know whether it's my hormones or not but I actually feel a bit emotional. Naming my baby after my father would be perfect. I know that I had always planned to give my children my parents' names in some shape or form, but that had always been before my father died and the idea of children went straight out of my head, replaced by cheerleading and popularity. Nothing else.

"I have done something . . . if you feel well enough to come see it," Peeta says.

I cock my head in confusion and frown. "What have you done?" I ask.

Peeta taps his nose, still looking slightly ridiculous with the mistletoe hanging from his head. "Come see."

We leave my house five minutes later, bundled up in coats and woollies. Peeta keeps his arm around me, making sure that I don't slip on the ice that has formed on the ground over the course of the day. I can see my breath as we walk, the cold almost unbearable. We stay huddled together, and Peeta's body close to mine makes the harsh air bearable. I could stay pressed against him for the remainder of my life, if it weren't unethical and totally impractical.

He takes me to the tree again.

Except this time, it's different.

The branches lost their leaves to the winter season, but where they have been is replaced by thousands of twinkling lights. Like hundreds of tiny stars sparkling, intertwined between the tree branches and setting the sky above alight. We stand at the bottom of the hill in which it sits on, staring at it in awe.

"How did you do this without me noticing?" I whisper, still huddled against Peeta's side.

"I utilised some of the time I had while you napped," Peeta says. I look at him and raise my eyebrows. He flushes bright pink and corrects, "When you were actually napping and not doing that other thing you say you do."

I laugh and look back at the tree. It hurts my eyes to stare at it for too long because the lights are so brilliant and bright. I wish I could get closer but the rain turned the slope into a landslide which then froze over in the sub-zero temperature. "You're amazing," I conclude, watching the lights glimmer in the moonlight. "Absolutely amazing."

"It's just a few lights," he says, immediately ready to defuse the compliments I want to give.

"No," I say firmly. "It's more than that. It's beautiful." I turn in his arms and touch his face, my cold fingers touching his cool skin. "I'm honoured that you would do it for me."

"You're worth the effort," he says quietly, the yellow light from the small bulbs making his blue eyes shine like jewels in his sockets. He leans down and kisses me, the cold forgotten as it sends a wave of heat through me. I smile into his lips and stroke his face with my thumb.

I will never let him go. Even if it's only been three months, and even though four months ago the very idea of kissing Peeta would have made me sick, for which I will be eternally ashamed of, but it has only taken me ninety one days to figure out for sure, which somehow still feels like too long.

Peeta Mellark will always be worth it.

~xXx~

New Year comes and goes and it feels like I've almost been transported in time from when winter break started to the beginning of school again. It's when I'm pulling my gloves at the front door that I actually have to take a moment to pause. I even turn to Peeta, who's wrapping his scarf around himself and say, "What the hell?" which throws him off slightly. "Where did the time go?"

Peeta laughs. "You know what they say about when you're having fun."

"Aye, yeah," I say, stomping out the door when Peeta opens it for me, "because you know how much I enjoy throwing up my food for most of the day."

We walk to school the same way we walked to the tree on Christmas night, bundled together for warmth. Peeta insisted upon carrying my backpack for me, which I protested against but did not win. It's a lovely morning, with clear skies and the sun shining a bit too close. If only it was a bit warmer then it would be perfect. How can the sun shine so bright and so close but not produce any heat? Has someone wrapped cling film around the world to blot it out somehow?

We pass the park. Not the school park, the one with the huge climbing frame that we hid inside when we were making plans against Snow and where I told Marvel I was pregnant and he promised to help. It's also where the January Craft Fair will be held because it has bigger field space than school grounds and apparently 'involves the community' more.

I pull to a stop on the sidewalk. Peeta stops too, confused by the sudden halt. "Why are there tyres at the bottom of the climbing frame?" I ask.

Peeta looks for what I'm talking about and raises his eyebrows in surprise when he sees it. There's a pile of tyres dumped at the bottom of the climbing frame, sitting in a pile as if waiting for something or someone to come sort them out. "Someone must have dumped them there," he says.

"Assholes," I mutter. It's a children's playpark, not a damn dumping ground! Who leaves huge ass tyres lying around a playpark? "I hope someone moves them. Who knows what could happen if a kid stumbled upon them. They're just big enough to cause injury."

"Sometimes I wonder about the people around here," Peeta says, nearly to himself, as we start to walk again.

I nod my agreement. "Me too."

People still stare at us when we enter the school building, but it's not on the same level it was when Glimmer had been spreading lies. I'm hoping that it got around that it was lies and I don't see why it shouldn't because the whole canteen bore witness to Cato declaring that Peeta was not gay, hence defusing the rumour about Finnick and us having a threesome. I know they're looking now because Peeta told everyone that he's my baby's father and for some reason that means that they can't stop gawking at us. Nosey idiots can't mind their own business for five minutes.

In form class, Glimmer thankfully stays to the back of the room. I don't doubt that she will be looking for more fuel for her gossiping engine as soon as she gets the chance but thankfully it seems that she is going to give us this first day back to ourselves. When Ms Trinket enters the room, however, we immediately know that something is up. She isn't her usual, cheery self, and her face is ashen.

"I hate to be the bringer of bad news," she says, setting her books onto the table and running her fingers through the course hairs of her wig, "but something serious happened over the Christmas break."

I straighten up in my seat, worry suddenly digging its talons into my back. Is it something to do with Snow? Will it jeopardize our plans? I exchange a look with Peeta, unable to hide the concern from my face. He smiles encouragingly, reaching his hand between our desks and placing it on top of mine.

"As you all know, your classmate Madge Undersee's parents have been very ill back in Spain," Ms Trinket explains. "Over the holidays, just after Christmas, they both passed away. Madge returned to Spain for the funeral but will be coming back at the end of the week. She doesn't want to be babied or treated any differently because of what happened and I hope you all will respect her wishes."

I stare at Ms Trinket, waiting for her to announce that it's some sort of sick joke. Madge has been going back and forward from here to Spain for years now! Her parents have been sick for quite some time. Can something that has been so prolonged just suddenly spark out so quickly?

I must be gaping pretty badly at Ms Trinket because she flashes a false smile that I'm sure was supposed to be reassuring in my direction. Peeta squeezes my hand, but I suddenly feel claustrophobic. I need to get out of this room. It's ludicrous, because I never knew Madge's parents, nor do I have a right to feel affected by this, but suddenly the whole idea of death coming so suddenly and so sharply makes me feel ill.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I tell Peeta, who nods and quickly releases my hand. I get up, without telling Ms Trinket and rush out of the room. I hear Ms Trinket barking at Glimmer to go to the Principal's office as I rush down the corridor to the toilets, meaning she probably made some offhand comment about me or my pregnancy or maybe even Peeta.

Barely making it to the toilet in time, I throw my breakfast up into the loo. I have no choice but to kneel on the dirty floor and as food turns to acid which burns the lining of my throat, fearful tears leak from my eyes. Maybe it's my hormones, but it upsets me severely that something so horrific could happen to Madge, a good person.

Why must the awful things always happen to the good people?

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review with your thoughts (:**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Bits and pieces get revealed here that will be crucial to the later plot.**

 **Trigger: There is the use of a word that can be extremely offensive to particular readers. Discretion is advised.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games (Don't think I've said that for a while but I think it's pretty obvious . . . )**

Chapter Twenty

Something that surprises me about the news of Madge's parents is that Gale seems to be deeply affected by it. For the past two days he's practically been a zombie, barely responding to Glimmer's advances and shuffling through the halls like he's on some sort of autopilot. It makes me wonder about his involvement with Madge's parents. He had been dating Madge for so long before she dumped him, he had been to Spain a couple of times to meet her parents. It reminds me of what Madge said outside the canteen when Gale was going to hit Peeta, about what happened in Madrid. As far as I'm aware, Madge is from Madrid and that's where her parents lived. I wonder what happened.

There's a solemn air around the school, like every year heard about what happened and is remorseful about it. I hope the atmosphere changes for Madge's return, she clearly doesn't want anyone's pity. I admire her bravery. When my dad died, I spent the entire month off before I returned. I remember the day I came back clearly. The sympathetic looks; the fearful murmuring, like I was a bomb about to go off; the rumours about how my father died and what truly happened to cause me to be off for so long. I remember marching right into the school and going straight to the new semester signup sheets. I remember grabbing the pen off the bulletin board and signing my name on the Cheerleading Audition Rota. I remember the determination I felt. The almost desperate need to get something right in my life.

"So what do we do when she returns?" Finch asks at lunch. "Act like nothing has happened?"

"If that's what Madge wants," Johanna answers, turning her nose up at the smell. The bin smells like it hasn't been emptied since before Christmas and, unfortunately, Loser's End tables have always resided right beside them. I used to find that fact funny, now I think the school's lack of hygiene is disgusting.

"How will we know if she's upset though?" Finnick insists. "Shouldn't we somehow make sure that she's okay?"

"If Madge wants our help or comfort, she will seek it from us herself," Peeta says confidently. "We can't force her to talk to us, it will only cause her to draw further into herself."

"I just hate the idea of her being upset and not seeking help," Finch says helplessly.

"I know," Peeta says back, "but sometimes taking a step back is all we can do. When she need us, we'll be there for her."

Delly approaches us, no longer a care in the world for how it may look. Despite the gloomy overtone of the school halls, her bright purple dress is like a beacon in the canteen. She plops into the spare seat beside Annie and says, "I have gossip."

"Truthful gossip or Glimmer gossip?" Finnick asks, sounding mildly annoyed. It's no secret that the threesome rumour has bothered him. Even though Annie didn't believe the lie, and never would unless it came from Finnick's mouth himself, it still angered him greatly.

"Truthful, I heard it come from his mouth myself," Delly insists.

"Oh?" I ask, interest peaked.

Delly leans forward and the five of us mirror the action. "It's about Gale," she whispers. "And Madge."

"What about them?" I insist, almost impatiently.

"Well, you know how Gale has been such a zombie these past few days?" We nod. "And the threat that Madge doled out when he was about to switch Peeta's lights off outside the canteen?" This time only Peeta and I nod. "Well, I overheard him telling Cato what happened in Madrid."

I don't need to ask why he didn't tell his girlfriend. Despite her determination to keep Gale as a boyfriend, if the story of what happened is juicy enough, there's no way she would keep it under her hat. It's like she is physically incapable of keeping a secret. Honestly, it's so severe I'm surprised it isn't a medical condition.

"What happened?" asks Johanna.

"He went with Madge to visit her parents some summer a few years ago. They didn't have a car, but Mr and Mrs Undersee had this old wreck sitting outside of the house. Gale thought he could get it working again and invented this new engine system that he decided to call 'The Trap'," Delly explains to us in a hushed voice. "Weird name, I know, but that's not the worst of it. The Trap wasn't tested and Gale didn't think to test drive the car before trying to transport Madge and her parents in it."

I frown. "What happened then?"

Delly smirks a lopsided grin. "Boom."

"Boom?!" Finch exclaims.

"The front of the car blew up," Delly elaborates. "It would have killed them too if Madge hadn't gotten her parents out before the fire hit the gas tank. Gale ran like a bitch, leaving them behind. That's why he'd give the undead a run for their money now; he never got to prove to her parents that he wasn't a coward who 'tried' to kill them."

Out of everything that could have happened to cause Gale to back off from Peeta, that was not what I had thought it would be.

"Why in the hell did that girl stay with him after that?" Johanna blurts out.

"Because she's kind," Annie says.

Delly shrugs. "And she knew that it was an accident."

Peeta shakes his head. "We're not putting that against Gale," he says. "Not after what happened to Mr and Mrs Undersee over the break. We'll just have to leave him out of the rebellion, I doubt he would add much anyways."

Everyone else seems to agree with him. I do too. There are lines to cross and lines to leave well alone.

Gale passes our table with Glimmer hanging off his arm like a piece of decoration but she may as well be a limp noodle on his shoe for all the attention he's giving her. She throws a smirk at us and says, "Think you'll be able to stomach that Katniss or are you going to upchuck again?"

I roll my eyes, the comment not even worth starting a fight about. Gale surprises me by stepping in anyway, but what he says horrifies me. "Leave it out, Glimmer. Leave Katniss and her bastard baby alone."

Everyone is sort of stunned, even Johanna who would normally have a response for everything. We watch them make their way to the canteen exit. Peeta gets up and I look at him with surprise as he follows them out. For a second, I wonder if he needs the bathroom or something and turn back to my food, feeling a little deflated after what Gale just said about my baby.

Peeta grabs Gale by the shoulder and spins him back around with enough force to cause Glimmer's grip on his arm to break. Not even giving the jock a chance to speak, Peeta punches him right in the face, knocking him to the ground. Glimmer screams with shock, not used to being on the other end of the 'beaten boyfriend' stick. I gawk at my own boyfriend as he pulls a face and shakes his fist.

"Don't you dare talk about Katniss' baby like that again, do you hear me?" he says darkly, with a level of anger I have never heard in him before.

"Holy shit," Johanna murmurs beside me.

Delly gets up from our table and runs to Gale as Peeta returns to me. As soon as he sits down I kiss him sternly. "You know I don't condone violence," he tells me.

"Of course," I say sarcastically.

Delly returns to us when I pull away from Peeta and inspect his fist. His knuckles are swelling slightly but thankfully that's all that's wrong. "Where did you run off to?" Johanna demands, concerned about Delly's motives for running to Gale so quickly.

"I told him that if he told Snow what happened or complained in any way I would tell everyone about Madrid," Delly shrugs. We watch Glimmer try to help Gale to his feet, huffing when he bats her away angrily and gets up. "Remorseful or not, there's no excuse for such language, especially about an unborn child."

I lift Peeta's hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. I don't condone Peeta getting himself into fights because it's not who he is but I know that he won't make a habit of it. This was one incident where he just couldn't help it. You can insult him all you like, maybe even me, but it seems that he has drawn a line at insulting my unborn baby. Especially when it's such an awful thing that Gale had said.

"I think I might have put my entire energy reserve into that punch," Peeta chuckles weakly.

"It's okay," I laugh, swiping my thumb across the top of his hand. "I got you."

~xXx~

"I don't know what got into me," Peeta says as we walk home. "I just got . . . really mad. This awful idea came into my head of him using his grief as an excuse to get away with such behaviour. I mean, people our age use that word all that time as an insult but when it is used in relation to a child? A child that hasn't even been born yet? I just sort of lost it for a moment."

I hold his hand in both of mine as we walk. Peeta has been confused ever since lunch time as to why he reacted to Gale the way he did and has been trying to talk it out of his system. "Peeta, you're human," I tell him. "Every human has a breaking point."

"When it came to name calling, though, I always felt like 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but first you got to throw them,' you know?" says Peeta. "It always felt like they weren't trying too hard, especially since fatboy seemed to be the only thing they could think of that left an impression for who knows how long. Maybe today was just the wrong day to be pushing my buttons? I don't know."

I can tell he feels awful. He's been telling me not to pick fights for months now and this one comment made by this one idiot sparks something in him and he punches them. I can still hear how angry he sounded when he told Gale not to talk about my baby that way and a shiver jitters down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

"You need to stop dwelling on it," I tell him as we enter my front garden. "You made an error today. However, I'm pretty sure it's one of very few you have made in your life. One of this size anyway. Gale's a big boy, who I'm sure has been knocked in the gob plenty of times because of his mouth, so I think you're honestly getting yourself worked up over nothing."

"I've probably made things worse for us rather than better," Peeta answers.

I sigh and stop in the middle of the garden path, turning to face him. "Things were never going to get better for us," I tell him. "I know you never wanted to admit this to me, or maybe even to yourself, but until Alma gets rid of Snow and gets our school sorted out those kids are never going to change their ways."

Peeta puts his hands on my shoulders, my satchel-which he had insisted on carrying-slips down his arm and catches on his elbow, momentarily unbalancing us. "If Gale gets Cato and a few others from the team to sort me out because of what I did, I want you to promise that you'll stay out of it. You're nearly at the twenty week point and it's more imperative than ever that you don't get hurt."

There it is. Always trying to protect me. Always thinking one step ahead to how he can look after me, not himself.

"He won't," I tell him. "We'll get Delly to use the Madrid story on him to keep his silence, or at least make him keep the team at bay when they hear about what you did. We won't be able to use it all the time but at least we'll get some use out of it before Gale realizes that I won't let Delly spread it around anyways . . ."

Peeta smiles. "You won't?"

"Well, yeah, it's personal," I answer. "We've no business spreading it . . ."

Peeta pushes his glasses up his nose. "I'm glad we're on the same page. I thought I was going to have to try to convince you not to let the story out," he says.

I laugh and shake my head. "Even if you did, you always propose a very compelling case," I remind him. I push up on my toes and murmur against his lips, "It doesn't take much for you to convince me of anything."

Peeta chuckles and connects our lips. We kiss and start up the path to the front door again. I briefly wonder if the house is empty and if we could get some time for . . . ahem . . . studying . . . when my thoughts are interrupted by Peeta's fingers tickling my sides. I burst out laughing and lash out, slapping him playfully as we reach the doorstep.

"Don't do that!" I cackle, falling on my back against the door.

Peeta raises his eyebrows at me, blond hair glowing in the evening gloom as the sun sets, a playful smirk on his face. "Or what?" he says teasingly, joining me on the doorstep which barely has room for one, let alone two, at once.

I bite my bottom lip and pretend to think about it, taking his arm in my hand and drawing him closer to me. "I might do something about it," I answer, gladly accepting when Peeta kisses me again. It's times like these where I am glad that our house is at the very back of the Seam, in a very secluded part of the estate. I could have had sex with a guy on my mum's front lawn when she was at work and no one would have seen it. Not that I would ever have sex outdoors, that's very unhygienic and just . . . ew.

I realize quickly that this position won't work. Peeta can't pile his weight on top of me because of my baby bump and he can't prop his hand against the door because of his pacemaker. I straighten up, not breaking the kiss and savouring the feeling of his soft lips against mine for a moment longer, before reluctantly pulling away.

I smirk at him and how his blue eyes have darkened a shade. "Let's go inside," is all I say before I connect our mouths again. I blindly reach behind myself for the doorhandle and break away once more to turn around and enter the house. As I'm crossing the threshold, Peeta tickles me again, making me shriek with laughter and stumble inside.

As soon as I'm in the house my eyes go to the two people sitting on the couch in the living room. There's a serious air that makes the smile fall from my face. One of them is my mother but I don't know who the man beside her is. He looks very familiar though . . .

I move out of the way of the door so Peeta can get in. As soon as he sees the man beside my mum his own smile drops from his face like a hot potato. The man gets to his feet, as if propelled by some urgency, and my mother follows suit.

I realize a millisecond before Peeta says it who the man is.

"Dad?"

The man smiles hopefully. "Hello, son."

I gape, unsure about what to do in this situation. I look to my mother for help. "Katniss and I will give you two a bit of time to talk," she says, immediately jerking her head at me in an obvious gesture to follow.

I touch Peeta's arm as one last extension of comfort and follow my mum down the hall to my bedroom, where we both hole up while Peeta and his dad talk. "What's he doing here?" I demand quietly as soon as the door is shut behind us.

My mum looks at me sternly. "Now Katniss, don't use that tone. I know what you're thinking but Mr Mellark is nothing like his wife," she says.

"If he has let her bully Peeta for this long then he damn well is!" I reply harshly.

Mum shakes her head. "You don't know the full story," she answers. "I knew both of Peeta's parents before I even knew your father. Semira is a hard woman to live with and nobody knows that more than Wayne does. You can't talk to her. I can't imagine the amount of times he's probably tried to tell her to leave the boys alone."

I sit down slowly on my bed, my hand holding onto my stomach while the other grips the bedside table for support so I don't just plop down. "Why doesn't he divorce her then?"

"If they did, and Wayne got custody-which he surely would considering Semira's treatment of them-then the four of them would be on the streets. Semira owns the land in which the bakery is built upon. She could have it demolished it Wayne tried to leave with the kids . . ."

Demolish the bakery? Surely Peeta's mother isn't that vindictive?

"Why is here now then? Just when Peeta is settling with us? He isn't trying to get him to go back to that awful place, is he? Because I won't allow it!" I say.

"He's not trying to make Peeta go back," Mum replies, picking the tack out of the corner of my dragons poster and straightening it out on my wall before sticking it back in. "He brought some more of Peeta's stuff around. Clothes; toiletries; nick nacks; things he needs. But he asked me if he could speak to him when you two came home and I told him that he could."

"How do you know he's not going to do what Semira did?" I demand, scowling at the thought.

"Wayne is not like that," Mum sighs, exasperated that I don't seem to understand what she's saying. I can't help it! What sort of man stands by and watches his wife abuse her son to the point of self harm and mental disorder? "He wants to tell him that he's always welcome to come home, even if it doesn't feel like it."

"Welcome to come home?" I scoff. "As long as that woman is there, I won't allow Peeta to go back to living there and if he really wanted to, I'd come with him to smack the bitch in the gob every time she says something to him."

"Katniss," Mum says, sitting down beside me and placing her hands over mine, "Peeta is a big boy. There are some battles he will have to fight for himself, meaning that you need to know when you have to back away to let him do it."

"True," I admit, "however that doesn't mean I won't be waiting in the sidelines, ready to pounce on anyone who dares bring him to breaking point like those kids did back in Middle School that made him sick. He can fight for himself, I've seen that." I smirk. "But behind every brave knight is a woman to keep him right."

 **A/N: Let me know what you think! Thanks (:**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

In the car the next day, Mum is driving us to the hospital because I'm due for my twenty week scan. I'm actually quite excited, because I can find out what gender the baby is at this appointment. It's a full car, because Peeta; my mum and Prim all wanted to come along to support me. I feel bad, because instead of bringing Marvel the last time I should have just brought my family. I'm not making that same mistake again. I want the people who are important to me to there for me, not someone who I thought was going to step up but didn't. This moment is too important for that.

"So do the assholes at your school still think Peeta is the father?" Prim asks.

"We don't talk about it often in school, but since Marvel has made no move to say otherwise they probably still do," I answer.

"Thankfully, they seem to have become very subdued," Peeta says. "Although I fear that may have something to do with Madge's parents. At least they have the common human decency to be respectful, I suppose."

Peeta didn't say much to me about his talk with his dad. He didn't seem upset, nor did he seem overly happy. I didn't feel it was my place to push it because it's none of my business what was said. If he wants to tell me, I'll be ready to listen to him, but from what I can tell, the conversation hasn't bothered him at all. Maybe it went well. Mum did tell me that Peeta dad's was a good guy.

"How is Madge, have you seen her yet?" Mum asks.

"She was supposed to start on Friday but there was complications with her flights or something like that so she'll be back next week," I say.

"Poor girl," Mum sighs. "We'll have to get her a sympathy card. When she returns to school, Katniss, you should ask her if there's anything she needs."

"I will," I promise.

I slump in my seat and uncross my ankles, placing my hand on my stomach and giving it a rub. Sometimes I can feel them moving inside me and I'm awaiting the day I can feel the kicks on my stomach so I can show Peeta. The thought brings a smile to my face. The baby kicking is always made out to a lovely moment and, since the father isn't interested anymore, I'm glad to have Peeta to share it with.

The car passes the park and when I glance out the window, I notice there's more tyres beside the climbing frame. "There's more tyres," I murmur, my breath fogging up the glass. "Where could they possibly be coming from?"

"The Government is apparently shutting the park down," Prim says. "Making more room for housing estates or something."

I frown. "What? We don't need more housing estates. Even if we did . . . Why the park?"

"Who knows but it's a disgrace!" Prim declares, hitting her fist against her palm. "Rory and I are going to do a protest on the day of that Craft Fair your school are doing. We're going to spend the whole day up in the climbing frame, waving signs and stuff."

"Do you think that will work?" Mum asks.

"It might. We don't know yet. I figure it's worth a shot though."

I smile at Prim in the rear-view mirror. The determination in her big blue eyes makes my heart swell. She's got her own battles to fight, even if the scale of them are not as large as mine. Each and every day I get more and more proud of her.

~xXx~

The creature on the screen has grown. The smile on my face is so large it practically hurts as my eyes consume the image of my beautiful baby on the computer. Tears fall freely from my eyes and I clutch Peeta's hand desperately. "Look, can you see it?" I whisper, drawing the outline with my finger.

"Yeah," Peeta says, his voice awed. "It's . . . it's amazing."

Portia taps something into the computer and moves the attachment across my stomach. I catch something on the screen, something that makes my heart flip. "Was that . . . ?" I point to where, for a brief millisecond, what I saw had been.

Portia smiles. "It was indeed," she chuckles. "I'm sorry if you wanted it to be a secret, it's unpredictable what will show up on the screen."

"Peeta, did you see it?" I cry.

"What was it?" Peeta asks, confused and a bit scared as he doesn't understand what's wrong. "Is everything alright?"

"He's a boy!" I sob, covering my hand with my mouth with joy. "I'm having a boy!"

Relief floods Peeta's face. His grip tightens on my hand and tears well in his own eyes, making the blue orbs glisten. "He's beautiful," he murmurs.

"He's perfect," I whisper. I look to Portia. "Can my mum and sister come in to see?"

Portia nods. "Of course they can."

Peeta fetches Prim and my mother. When they enter, my mum gasps at the image of my baby and starts to cry. Prim is confused and Peeta outlines where the baby is to her. "Do you know what the gender is?" she asks.

I nod. "Do you want to know?"

Prim looks to Mum. "Uh . . ."

"You can tell us if you want, sweetheart."

I look to the screen, where the image moves again as Portia moves the attachment some more. "I'm having a boy," I tell them. "A beautiful baby boy who's completely happy and healthy."

"What are you going to call him?" asks Prim.

"I want to call him Oliver," I tell them. I don't say the name often, because it hurts too much, and even now I feel like a ball of lead has formed in my throat as I speak. Mum cries harder, unable to stop herself, and I reach out and grab her hand. "I want to name him after Daddy."

Prim drifts over to me and hugs me. Our teenage lives may have tugged us apart, but the experience of losing our Dad was something that we had a mutual understanding over. Not only did we both lose our Dad, but we both lost a man who had been so heavily involved in our lives that once he was gone, it felt like a huge hunk of ourselves had been torn off. Even when I veered off into the void of the unknown when he was gone, turning to cheerleading and being the major bitch that I was, every year, on his anniversary, without fail, we went to his graveside as a family.

"I love you, Katniss," she whispers.

"I love you too, Prim." I nestle my head in the crook of her neck and close my eyes. I need to say that more often.

I never say it enough.

~xXx~

"Hi, yeah, this is Katniss Everdeen. I'm calling in regards to plans I made with Alma Coin before Christmas? It's just I haven't heard a lot from her and I was wondering if there was any news?"

Peeta is watching some Marvel programme on Netflix with Prim in the living room. I'm not really into the superhero thing so I just decided to come in here and take a nap. I'm lying with my head at the foot of my bed, picking at some fraying paint on my wall. I haven't heard from Coin in ages and I'm growing concerned about whether we're still going to try to take down Snow or not.

"No, I'm sorry, Alma hasn't divulged any new information on your plans," Boggs informs me.

I tsk. "Oh."

I hear papers shuffle on the other end of the line but Boggs doesn't hang up. I don't either, curious to see if he'll do it first. "Katniss," he suddenly says, "have you thought about what I said to you before?"

Propping myself up on my elbows, I frown. "Not really. What did you mean by that anyway? Has Snow done something on Coin? Why is this case so personal?"

Boggs sighs. "Alma's daughter went to the same school as you, while Snow was principal. She was not popular, so he neglected her. She was bullied horribly because her mother was on the education board and . . . she committed suicide in her Junior year."

My stomach bottoms out and I actually have to sit up straight to stop myself from throwing up. "What?" I whisper. "I don't remember hearing about a suicide."

"It was long before you went to the school, don't worry you didn't have a hand in it," Boggs assures, making me feel slightly relieved. "Coin's life has never been the same since then. Her husband couldn't handle the grief and overdosed himself, leaving Alma on her own, swearing revenge on Snow."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask fearfully.

"Because that kind of grief can do horrible things to a woman," Boggs tells me. "Can you imagine the lengths a person would be willing to go to in order to seek redemption for their family? The people they would be willing to go through? The lives they'd be willing to destroy?"

I can't help it, I hang up the phone and throw it across the room. Peeta must hear the bang of the device against the wall as he pops his head around the door. "Everything okay?" he asks.

I nod, even though my hands are shaking. I can't tell him what Boggs told me. Alma won't do anything drastic. She can't. There's nothing she could do that would be considered severe, even if she wanted to. Snow is a principal, we're his students. The only direction this will go in is with the sacking of Snow so he never controls a school environment again at the end of it.

"Hey, you're trembling." Peeta comes into the room and sits beside me, placing his hands over mine. "What's up?"

"Nothing," I say, forcing my hands to stop shaking. I don't want to think about Boggs or what he told me about Coin. I want to forget that it ever passed my ears and entered my mind.

I close the distance between Peeta's mouth and my own, kissing him firmly. I turn into him, trying to seem confident and sexy, but I can tell he's reserved, like he knows I'm trying to distract myself from something else. "What's wrong? You can tell me," he murmurs against my lips.

"Nothing!" I growl. "Can't you believe me?"

"I know you well enough by now to know when you're trying to distract me from something," says Peeta. "And choosing this way of doing it is rather crazy since I am fully capable of turning it down, which I'm sure you know by now."

I scowl. "That's because you don't know what you're missing yet," I huff.

Peeta quirks an eyebrow at me. "I could live happily without knowing for the remainder of my life." This makes me gape at him. He laughs at me. "You're lucky that I'm not as pure as I let on to me," he says.

I roll my eyes. "I knew it was an act." I'm glad the conversation has moved on. I don't want to tell him about Coin's family. It would be an unnecessary reason to bring his mood down. I push it to the back of my head and kiss him again. This time he kisses me back.

My hands go to his shirt, which I burrow my hands under. Peeta yelps and breaks the kiss. "Your hands are made of ice!" he exclaims. I laugh and make my hands crawl up his back, inflicting a shudder and another girlish yip due to the temperature drop.

We move up my bed to the top, where I turn us around and sit on Peeta's hips. He kisses my neck and I shiver, threading our hands together and pinning them to the mattress. He bites my skin and I moan, unaware that our hips have started to move together. The sensation is just so natural and feels so good I barely notice it happening.

I scoot backwards, dragging my ice cold hands down Peeta's chest and stomach as I go. He laughs, despite the situation, and bats them away. I grin and waggle my eyebrows at him. "Want to take another step?" I ask.

Peeta raises his eyebrows. "Like wha . . ." His voice trails away as I play with the zip of his jeans. His eyes roll behind his head and his chest puffs out as he huffs out a breath. There's a tug in my gut as I realize that this is the reaction of a pure soul. Someone who has never experienced such sensations before. By someone else's hand anyway but let's not open that can of worms . . .

I kiss his navel teasingly and flick the button of his jeans open with my thumb, waiting for him to tell me to stop if he wants me to. I'm just sliding down the zip when Prim calls. Fuck I forgot she was in the house. "Don't come in here!" I bark at her.

"Alright, sheesh," she shouts, "There's someone at the door for you!"

Peeta groans and throws a pillow over his face. I laugh at his reaction. "Stay here, I won't be long," I tease, sliding off him. Going to my bedside cabinet, I produce a set of novelty handcuffs I got one Halloween. Only for a bit of fun, I lock his wrist to the head of the bed. "Stay put."

Peeta scoffs. "Like I can go anywhere," he says, making himself comfortable. He stuffs the pillow under his head with his free hand and lets his eyes fall closed, ready to wait for my return.

I kiss him and leave my room. Prim passes me as she goes to the bathroom. "I let them in, they're on the sofa."

"Okay," I answer, adding, "don't go into my room!" as an afterthought.

I'm baffled to find Ms Trinket sitting on my couch when I enter the living room. It's always a galling experience seeing teachers outside of school. Like when you walk into them at the supermarket and don't know what to say to them because you're not in school. Except triple the awkwardness because this is my house, not the supermarket.

"Ms . . . Trinket?" I ask, confused.

Ms Trinket jumps to her feet. "It's Effie outside school, Katniss," she tells me.

"Um, okay. W-Would you like a cup of tea or anything?" I approach the armchair and sit down, gesturing for Effie to do the same. She shakes her head as she sits and we stare at each other for a moment. Her eyes fall to my stomach, which is the size of a small beach ball now.

"I heard you had your 20 week scan," she says. "Did everything go okay?"

I nod. "Yeah," I say. "He's happy and healthy."

I'm startled when tears gather in my teacher's eyes. "He's a boy?" she asks.

"Um yeah," I say cautiously. "I'm going to call him Oliver, after my father." I rub my stomach, hoping Oliver can feel it inside of me. "I don't mean to sound rude Ms Trinket but why are you here?"

"I know this is sudden," Effie begins, her fingers twitching nervously in her lap, "and you have every right to say no because it may be too close to home for you but we talked about it at length and we just want it so badly . . ." I raise my eyebrows at her. "Haymitch and I would like to adopt your baby."

I blink with surprise. So much information in that one sentence. "You and Mr Abernathy?" I ask, flabbergasted.

Effie nods, her face turning pink. "We've been married for some time but Snow believed it would be in the school's best interests if we kept it quiet," she explains. Another life Snow has complicated. That must have been why Mr Abernathy joined our cause, with Effie in close tow . . . "We've tried to conceive, we really have, but I'm polycystic and Haymitch isn't the young man he used to be."

My hand continues to rub my stomach subconsciously. Effie watches me, anxiously chewing on her lip as she awaits my answer. "I haven't even thought about it yet," I admit. "I don't have anyone who I thought would want me to be involved in his life"-

"You can be as involved as you want," Effie quickly tells me. "You and Marvel and even Peeta."

I ponder it over. "Ms Trinket," I say carefully, "My baby . . . he will be born with Downs Syndrome. Is that something that you and Haymitch are willing to accommodate for?"

Effie's eyes glitter with determination. "If you allow us to adopt Oliver, I promise your son will be loved. I will give him everything he needs and more, working until my dying breath to protect him. And you can bet that Haymitch will go through anyone who dares touch him."

Her words make tears well in my eyes. I curse and wipe them away with my knuckles. "You understand that I'll need to think about this?" I say.

Effie nods. "Oh of course, take all the time you need," she says, standing up. I stand up too. I'm taken aback when she hugs me and stand there awkwardly, unsure about whether this crosses some sort of teacher student line. Oh well, hardly matters. I'm not going to go telling people that she came to my house anyways.

When she pulls back, she smiles at me. "Thank you Katniss."

I nod. When I see her out, I lean against the door once it's shut again and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. I hear the toilet flushing in the distance and the bathroom door opening. I'm smiling. It's instinctive. I couldn't pick better people to parent my baby if they'd fallen from the sky and landed at my feet. I'll talk it out with Peeta just to be sure.

Peeta . . .

Prim screams in surprise and my eyes widen. I bolt across the living room. "Prim, get out of my room!"

 **A/N: Some people predicted that Effie might ask to adopt Katniss' baby but I hope it was a surprise to some people! Katniss' baby being a boy is a homage to my sister, who found out a couple of weeks ago that she's having a baby boy also ^_^**

 **Please R &R with thoughts on the chapter!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry that I didn't update last week. I seem to be developing RSI (repetitive strain injury) in my arms from typing so much so I had to take a break for a while.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

Chapter Twenty Two

The day of the Craft Fair is an unnaturally bright day. For January, it's quite warm, and the sun is shining like its mid-May. I'm not going to complain, it's been raining for weeks now, it's just weirdly out of character for a month that's usually wet and windy. On some level it's a bit irksome as well because it's as if the world is shining down on Snow and his choice of dates for outdoor events so everything works out for him as usual.

I've always enjoyed the annual craft fair. There are loads of stalls set up with crafts made by students from all years, all proceeds going to charity *cough* the football programme *cough*. I'm disgusted I ever supported such a deceitful and dishonest event, thinking that the football team needed the money more than any other charity in existence did. I don't want to even think about it until it comes to exposing Snow for the man he truly is. There are also some games: bouncy castles and soccer for the kids, as well as access to the park's amusements.

I attend the fair with Peeta and we're to meet up with the others after lunch. Snow is to do some spiel at one about school pride and coming together as a community to support {insert bogus charity name here}. It will be tedious to listen to but I hope that it will lead onto the real reason Peeta and I are here: to expose Snow to the parents of the students of District High.

"I wonder if Madge will attend the fair," I muse as we enter the park. I smile when, in the distance, I see Prim and Rory hanging out of the top of the climbing frame hooking signs up declaring stuff like 'SAVE OUR PARK' with little cartoon pictures of swings and slides dotted around it.

"I suppose it depends on how she's feeling," Peeta answers.

"I hope she does," I say. "She needs cheering up."

We don't bother with any of the stalls. I'm not helping Snow support the football team through the deception of honest, hardworking people. We instead go straight to a grassy bank a good distance away from the park where the others are waiting. A smile breaks out on my face when I see Madge sitting on the bank beside Clove. She looks happy, a whisper of a smile across her face as she chatted away. I absentmindedly scan her, looking for any signs that could suggest that she was still upset.

"Hello, Madge," Peeta says as we arrive. He's smiling too, clearly pleased to see her looking so well. "How are you?"

Despite her smile, when Madge looks at us, I see something that I recognize all too well. A mask glazing over the misery she is feeling. I know because I wore one too. When dad died, I didn't want anyone's sympathy. I just wanted to be treated like everything was okay even though I felt like it wasn't. "I'm doing well," she says. "Thanks for asking."

"Is there anything you need?" I ask, seating myself on the grass by her feet.

"No, thank you, I'm fine," Madge answers.

"Well," Clove says, clapping her hands and rubbing them together with a devilish grin, "anyone coming with me to locate eggs to lob at Snow during his stupid pride-in-the-school speech?"

"Definitely," Johanna says, jumping at the opportunity to cause mischief.

"I don't even want to go to listen to his speech," I say. "I can't listen to that man anymore. He makes my stomach upset."

"Even your baby doesn't like Snow," Finnick chuckled. "Smart kid."

I rub my stomach with a smile. I'm beginning to feel Oliver moving inside me more and more. I wish he would kick, so I can share the immense happiness I feel at the knowledge that he's there and he's healthy and he's letting me know that he's there and he's healthy with him. I know it would mean a lot to Peeta to share the experience as well, and I couldn't have asked for a better father figure for Oliver over the course of my pregnancy.

We watch Johanna and Clove disappear into the fair from where we sit, just as a small figure makes his way to the stage that has been set up for the fair. Urgh, Snow is going to make his speech. I'm glad I'm far away so I can't hear him spew the usual crap.

I notice someone else on the stage. I lean forward and squint. "Is that Coin?"

Peeta lifts his glasses and squints, before letting them fall back onto his nose. "Possibly?" he replies unsurely. I take Peeta's glasses from his face and put them on my own, blinking with disorientation when the lens blurs my vision. Peeta laughs. "They aren't going to help you."

"Didn't Coin say she would be here?" asks Annie.

"Yeah," I frown. "She said she would be here to . . . bask in the shockwaves of what she has planned I guess?"

"Did she even bother to tell you what she had planned?" Madge asks. Since she has been away in Spain, she's been a bit out of the loop, but the fact that she's still interested in bringing Snow's reign to an end is very encouraging.

"Nope," I sigh, popping the 'p' with my lips.

"Why the craft fair, I wonder . . ." Finnick muses.

"Something to do with all the parents being here to witness it?" I recall from my conversation with Coin. "Honestly, it's been eating at me why she hasn't told me what she's planned. Her vendetta against Snow is apparently very . . . extreme."

"Extreme?" Peeta frowns. He looks confused, because I never brought this up before, certainly not with him.

I shrug. "Yeah."

"How so?" asks Annie.

I chew on my lip, the conversation with Boggs being the first thing to come to mind. "Coin . . . her daughter went to our school," I explain. "Apparently she was bullied and Snow did nothing about it so she resorted to suicide."

"Oh god," Finnick says. "That's awful."

"That's not even the worst of it," I mutter. "Her husband overdosed himself because he couldn't bear the burden of his daughter having killed herself."

Peeta turns me around, his eyes searching. "How long have you known this?" he asks me.

I shrug again. "A while. I didn't want to worry you guys with it."

"So you let yourself worry?" Annie places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Katniss, that's not healthy. Don't worry about us, we're tough as old boots, especially Johanna and Clove."

Peeta folds me into his arms, his face fitting perfectly in the crook of my neck. "Don't hide these things from me, Katniss," he murmurs. "I don't' want you bearing burdens jus to try to save me."

"I didn't want to worry you," I answer.

"Don't you worry about me," Peeta says firmly. He draws back and smiles. "It's my job to be the worrier in this relationship. It's your job to be the calm, collected one."

"We're fucked."

We all look to Madge. She's staring at her shoes intensely, a fixed frown on her face.

"What?" Finnick asks for all of us, baffled by the sudden outburst.

Madge shrugs, resigned to seemingly everything. "A woman who has suffered as much as that?" she asks. "She'd be willing to do anything for revenge. Never mind us; we're just pawns in all this. Whatever she has planned, it's going to fuck us. Hard."

We don't get a chance to reply to her becauseClove comes barrelling towards us. At first I laugh, amused by her urgency, and am about to make a joke about it when I see the seriousness on her face. Her skin is bone white and my stomach turns, my heart stopping as she comes to a stumbling stop before us. "What is it? What's wrong?" I ask.

"The climbing frame is on fire!" Clove exclaims.

"What?!" Peeta asks, standing up and helping me struggle to my feet as well. I push on my tiptoes and see the crowds of people who had been milling around the fair rushing towards the park, where black smoke was now poisoning the sky. "What happened?"

"The tyres!" Clove says. "Whoever placed the tyres around the slide did it with the intention of setting the climbing frame on fire! They must have lit it while everyone was distracted with Snow's stupid speech!"

Then I remember. It hits me like a car, making all the air rush straight out of my body. I'm choked, fear gripping me like a vice as I break away from Peeta and Clove and start sprinting towards the slide. "Prim!" I scream the closer I get, shoving and elbowing people out of my way. Once I start to feel the heat against my skin and there's flashes of orange in my peripheral vision, there's no one left to elbow out of my way. They stopped going any closer.

The whole structure is alight. The tyres have caused the frame to burn easier, hence why it's burning so fiercely and the smoke is so dark. I spin around frantically, trying to find Prim in the crowd, praying that she got out before whoever set the frame alight did it. She got out, she has to have.

"Prim!" I scream helplessly, running around the entire structure trying to find her.

I try to get closer but am stopped by a hand on my shoulder. Lost in a haze of panic, I smack whoever it is out of my way, not even bothering to look behind me to see who it is. "Prim!" I scream over and over again until my voice is raw. "Primrose answer me!" The smoke is getting thicker, billowing closer and closer to where I'm standing. I look around desperately, my heart in my throat and swelling so large it is choking me.

That's when I see him.

Rory, lying on the ground, a little bit away from the frame. He's face down, like he jumped from the very top. A couple of people who have dared to plunge as deep into the fray as I have are taking his arms and pulling him away. I hold my hand over my mouth as the smoke gets thicker, and I run around the frame again, desperately trying to find my sister.

I made the circuit back around again. The smoke clears and I see her, at the very top of the frame, where an hour previous she had been waving her sign and yelling to save the park. "Prim!" I scream, trying to get her attention. She doesn't respond. She's lying face down, her hand hanging over the edge of the floor, clearly unconscious.

I lunge forward, intent on saving her, when my arm is grabbed and I'm dragged back. I scream at whoever it is, lashing out.

"Katniss stop!" Peeta barks at me. "You can't go in there! Think of Oliver!"

"I have to help her!" I scream back, tears burning down my face.

"I'll go," Peeta says, pushing me back a little so I'm out of harm's way. "You stay put. Try to remain calm."

Peeta has only turned and taken a few steps towards the frame when I notice it. A large tin of gasoline has been left on the ground, and the fire is inches from touching it-

"Peeta!" I scream, running after him.

Peeta sees the tin just as I scream and I hear him swear. He turns around and grabs me, hunching over on the ground just as the fire touches the tin and the whole thing explodes. I scream at the ear bursting noise the explosion causes and the force that throws Peeta to the ground, his body still hunched over mine in protection.

The last thing I remember before passing out is hundreds of horrified screams and the feeling of Peeta's frail body trembling against mine. That's when everything blacks out. Like a tiny person inside my mind decided that it had had enough and chose to switch the telly off.

 **A/N: The climbing frame of a park near where a friend of mine lives was burned down a few months ago overnight. Nobody claimed to have seen anything, which was strange, considering the whole structure must have been alight considering the damage. Thankfully, nobody was hurt in that incident because it had been done late at night.**

 **Please read and review with your thoughts!**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

I'm being wheeled somewhere.

I slowly fade into consciousness. Walls pass me in a blur, shapes and colours and words morphing together because I'm being pushed so quickly. There's a mask over my mouth, pushing oxygen into my lungs. I hear distant screaming. Screams of agony. My eyes flutter, feeling almost like someone is digging their thumbs into my lids, trying to force them shut. I'm about to give in, when it finally registers.

Those screams . . . They're Peeta's.

I rip the mask from my face but as soon as I try to sit up, a hand drags me back down. "Miss Everdeen you must sit still," someone says.

"That's Peeta!" I yell, pushing against their hold on me. "What's wrong with him?!" A wave of nausea washes over me and I collapse against the bed again. I begin to panic, my chest heaving as my throat starts to burn and I struggle to breathe. The mask is placed over my face and I grab it gratefully.

The bed comes to a stop. I look around desperately, fear gripping me like a vice. Whoever is holding me lets go and I grab the opportunity.

I jump off the bed, my knees immediately buckling beneath me. I fall to my knees but I scramble to my feet and run after the sound of Peeta's voice. "Miss Everdeen, come back here!" I hear the same voice that told me to stay still shout.

I'm in a hospital. Why am I in a hospital? Why can I remember what happened? I stumble along the corridor, bumping into the walls but remaining fast enough to stay ahead of the doctors trying to catch me again. I follow Peeta's voice to a room near the end of the corridor. I go for the handle but it's locked, so I peer through the small window.

There's only a few doctors in the room, but they're all clustered around the body on the bed. They're cutting away a shirt with scissors. Revealing . . . Revealing . . .

I stumble backwards into the opposite wall and slide to the floor. It all rushes back to me. The fire. The climbing frame. The tin of gasoline. Peeta shielding me from the blast to protect Oliver . . .

My hands fly to my stomach. I'm beginning to shudder, immense fear seizing hold of me, and I can't stop myself. The doctor skids to a stop beside me. "Katniss, you're going into shock again, you have to let me help you."

"Ol-Oliver," I manage to grind out.

"Oliver?" The doctor frowns.

I clutch my belly tightens. The doctor notices. "Your baby is fine, Katniss. There was a moment where we thought . . . But no. He's fine. You're both fine. You didn't inhale too much smoke and when Mr Mellark shielded you from the blast he took the brunt of anything that could have caused miscarriage."

I'm curling into myself onto the floor, my body practically smashing itself repeatedly against the floor as I lie down on my side and fold my head into my chest. "P-P-P-Prim?" I stammer, my voice small. The doctor is silent. I know what that means but I can't accept it. "No. No. No. No. No. You're wrong! You have to be!"

"Katniss, please"-

"No!" I yell. I say it again. And again and again and again, as if repeating it is going to make it true. They have to be wrong. There has to be some sort of mistake. This sort of thing only happens in the movies, not real life. I'm dreaming, I have to be. That's why I'm trembling in a hospital corridor after having just witnessing the most painfully horrific sight of my life.

The doctor must have called for help, or got some passerbys to give her a hand, as I'm suddenly being lifted from the floor and carried back to my bed. I'm still shaking, my body paralysed with fear and shock. They have to be wrong. They just have to be. Medical professionals can still make mistakes. My mum used to make mistakes. It's possible. They're wrong. It's not true.

Once I've been laid down on the gurney again, the oxygen mask is placed over my face again. "Try to relax. Stressing out isn't going to help your baby," she tells me.

It's then I notice that I'm crying. My face is wet. I reach up with a shaky hand and touch my soaked cheek. When I pull my hand back and see the salt water glistening on my fingertips, it's like a trip switch inside me flips. There's no mistake. There couldn't be. Not one of this magnitude.

I throw my head back and scream, my face scrunching up and snot running freely from my nose as I begin to sob. I don't try to get up again, and simply scream and sob as I'm wheeled away. I don't care about how I look or seem. The pain of what has happened is so great I can't control how I react. It's too much to cope with. No. Not this way. I don't want it to be true. I wish it wasn't. I should have done something. I should have tried harder. My voice runs thin and I choke on the oxygen being pumped through the mask. I fall limply against the bed as the gurney is pushed into a room. I am finished.

Prim is dead.

~xXx~

Three other kids died that day in the park. Children who had woken up that morning with excitement for the craft fair, the beautiful day being the perfect opportunity to play at the park. They didn't know that the climbing frame was going to be set alight. Now their families were grieving the loses of their children the same way I am grieving the loss of Prim. Except I don't feel like anyone else could possibly understand the pain I am in. The massive piece of me that has been forcibly torn from my body and thrown away, leaving nothing but an empty hole behind.

Principal Snow has been sacked for negligence. It is believed that it was one of the students from the school that set the frame on fire but, if proper health and safety precautions had been looked into by Snow then the entire situation could have been avoided. Primrose could still be with me.

I've been in the psychiatric ward of the hospital for a week now. They won't let me out. They don't think I'm 'stable' enough to function on my own. In some ways, they're right. If it weren't for my doctors and nurses checking up on me regularly I probably wouldn't do anything besides lie on my side and stare blankly at the wall. They rouse me; make me sit up and eat; shower; drink water. They make sure that I function properly to protect not only myself but Oliver too.

Every time they rouse me, I make the same demand. Every time they tell me that it isn't time yet. I don't care about time. Or when I'm ready or not. Every single day, every single time, I look my nurse or doctor-whoever comes to see me-dead in the eyes and say:

"Let me see Peeta."

They told me what happened Peeta because of the fire. I try not to think about it, because it makes me feel sick, because if he hadn't felt the obligation to protect me then he could have avoided this.

In grabbing me, and shielding me from the fire with his body, Peeta's entire back has been destroyed by the flames. When I had been wheeled through the corridors, and I jumped out of bed and followed his voice, the horrific sight I saw through the window was of the doctors treating him. Cutting the charred remains of his shirt away to examine the damage. I will never get the images of blistered and bleeding skin from my mind.

Memorials are spreading out through the entire town. People paying tribute to the kids who died in the fire and sending 'good thoughts' and 'best wishes' to those who were severely injured. I don't know which category I fall into. I am not injured. I came out relatively unscathed and only have to use a nebuliser on occasion. However, ever since I found out about Primrose, a part of me has died. A massive piece of me that I never realised I had until it was gone.

It's nearing the end of my third week in the hospital when I grab my nurse's arm desperately and plead, "Please, let me see him."

They don't understand. I need to see Peeta. I need to know that he's still here. That he hasn't been taken from me. That I haven't lost him. I don't care how hurt he is, I have seen him at his worst and he has seen me at mine. I don't care about my state of mind; or how stable or unstable I am; my need to see Peeta has grown so intense I can barely handle it.

The nurse must see something in my eyes. Desperation? Fear? Sincerity? She nods. "I'll see what I can do."

Later that day, the same nurse appears with a wheelchair.

I still tremble. I can't stop it. Even as I'm being wheeled through the corridors of the hospital, each one as boring and bland as the last, my hands are quivering in my lap. My fingers violently twitch and, no matter how hard I try to get it under control, they won't stop. My doctor thinks it's a side effect of the shock; of the PTSD I'm clearly developing. Sometimes, if I get really bad, I get a tick in my head where my neck suddenly jerks to the left.

They wheel me into a private room. I'm thrown back to when Peeta was first admitted into hospital. When he collapsed in front of a room full of people and was forced to face his demons. Now it's not just him in hospital. It's the both of us. We're both broken.

I find him immediately. Lying face down on the bed, because he has no other choice, fast asleep. His arm hangs over the edge of the mattress, hand nearly skimming the floor. There are bandages plastered over his entire back, covering the damage from the harsh eyes of the room. The trembling in my hands gets stronger when I see him and, despite the relief the way his back is moving alongside his breathing makes me feel, the nervous tick in my head returns.

"Are you okay?" the nurse asks with concern.

"Yes," I growl, using my shaky hands to propel the wheelchair closer to Peeta's bed before she decides I can't handle it and drags me away.

I edge closer to the bed and stop by his bedside. He looks so content, sleeping so peacefully, like the explosion didn't happen and when he opens those eyes again everything will be okay and his back won't be burned and I won't be mentally crippled and Prim would still be alive. Tears brim in my eyes and I curse, wiping them away.

My hand shakes violently as I reach out and stroke his hair. Peeta smiles in his sleep, like he can feel it, and I nearly choke. "Katniss," he murmurs, making my heart stutter. His eyes flutter open, the action looking so laboured and hard to do. "Am I dreaming?"

"N-No," I stammer, my fingers twitching against his head as I keep my hand buried in his hair. "I-I-It's m-me."

Peeta closes his eyes, folding his bottom lip into his mouth as he shifts only the slightest of bits on top of the mattress. He's trying to hide his pain from me. Does he know that I know what the fire did? "I should be the one visiting you," he says, opening them for me to see once more.

"I-I-I am m-more c-capable." I hate how my nerves won't let me speak properly. I'm not nervous about talking to Peeta but, ever since the accident, it feels like every nerve in my body has been shot. I trail my hand down the side of his face and let it rest on his cheek, despite its fierce shaking. "Y-You're s-s-s-so s-s-stupid. Wh-why would y-you hurt y-yourself like th-that for m-m-me?"

"You had greater things to lose than me," Peeta answers, his eyes sliding closed again with comfort as my hand cups his face. His expression twists and he mutters angrily to himself, "You have lost greater things than me."

I know what he's talking about. He's talking about Prim. "It w-wasn't y-your f-fault," I murmur, my voice low to fight the tears that threaten to overcome me at the mention of her.

"I should have went in after her."

"T-T-The g-gas would s-still have ex-exploded."

"I could have tried."

I shake my head fiercely. "No, because then you would be gone too and I would have no-one." I'm shocked by how I'm able to get that sentence out without a single stammer. It's the first time that's happened in three weeks. My throat constricts and I inhale fearfully, the idea of having no one left at all; of it only be me; on my own; broken and afraid; terrifying me.

Peeta's eyebrows furrow with confusion. "Your mother?"

I cast my gaze away from his, focusing out the window where the day was still sunny. The days say getting brighter and brighter, lasting longer before it gets dark again. It's almost like the weather is taunting me, making fun of the fact that everything in my life has turned into dark; black; gloomy; nothingness but the sky outside remains blue and the sun shines like a brand new penny.

I want to be out there so badly, to feel the heat on my skin again, like the world is good and just, and that my sister isn't dead and that this has all just been a terrible nightmare. But I can't and it's not. I'm trapped.

"She's . . . I d-don't know," I honestly admit. "Psy-psychiatric like me, I-I think."

"Oh Katniss, I'm sorry."

Hearing that word. That stupid, stupid word that I heard so often when my dad died, as if saying it would make him come back and make everything good again. It turns my stomach and I have to press my forehead against Peeta's mattress. I thought I would never have to hear that word with such sympathy in its wake ever again. Or, at least, until I was much, much older.

"Katniss," Peeta says gently, taking my hand and squeezing it, "it's okay to cry."

"I-It's h-h-happen-ning ag-again," I stutter, the tears swelling in my eyes and pressing into the covers on his mattress. "I-I'm l-losing everyo-one a-again." I lift my head, eyes stinging and tears freely falling from them. "M-My world is falling a-apart. P-Prim i-isn't coming b-back."

Peeta's eyes glisten too. I don't know whether he's upset at seeing me so miserable or it's maybe the pain in his back causing him agony. "I know," he says gently, upholding the promise that we would never lie to one another. He winds his arm around me, pulling me as close as possible with the positions we're in. It's an awkward hug, but I'm grateful for it, and it's the incentive I need to fall apart completely.

I sob into Peeta's chest, my fingers digging into his shoulders and neck as if it will anchor me to the world before I lose my grip and fall. I can still feel his bones but they are covered with a layer of cushiony skin. I know he's crying too; I can feel it on my face and neck. This only makes me cry harder. I'm emptying my emotions out before him and he is gathering them back up before I lose control of myself completely.

I need Peeta to keep me sane or else I'm just going to go numb.

 **A/N: I wonder if Suzanne Collins felt the same way as I do now when she killed Prim. If so, it must have been a sucky week for her :/**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

I don't find out the truth until a few months after the accident.

I'm told that when it comes to the funeral for Prim, I'll be allowed out of the hospital but will have to be supervised, however since the investigation is still pending, her body hasn't been released yet. There's no questioning what killed her but for some reason the morgue still needs to investigate her body. I know that my anger at this is unjustified, but I can't help it.

My sister is dead. I'm allowed to be unreasonable.

There's a garden in the pysch ward. They let me sit out on my own for an hour each day. I know they're watching me but at least there's a vague sense of privacy. The days have been getting brighter and brighter, the grass getting greener and the sky becoming bluer, however I can't bring myself to enjoy it. Or even admire it in the tiniest of ways. It's like I'm wearing sunglasses, and despite the sunny day, everything is still tainted black.

I'm sitting outside now. It's not a good day. My mood is so low it's hugging the floor. I just find myself staring at the opposite wall, at the bird bath attached to the wall that no birds seem to visit. I don't blame them. It reeks of death around here. No wonder they don't want to come.

Peeta wheels towards me. His back is getting better, slowly but surely. The burns were third degree, meaning that most of his nerve endings had been severed. Now that they were repairing, he was beginning to feel the pain more. He moves slowly, his arms pushing the massive wheels on the side of the chair carefully to be able to transport himself without causing unnecessary agony to himself.

"How are you?" he asks me.

I can't bring myself to answer. Why have a bird bath if no birds are around? Shouldn't they take it down or something?

Peeta doesn't force me to talk to him. He simply reaches out and takes my hand, holding it in both of his. We have days like this. Days where I'm too broken to speak. Where the only thing I can find the strength to do is stare into space and contemplate why someone like me can still be alive when someone as pure and innocent as my sister had to be taken away. To be honest, I never want Peeta around when I'm like this. Because I can be cruel. When I'm angry enough, I say things I don't mean, just because I'm upset. I've told him to stay away from me when my mood is low.

But Peeta, being Peeta, stays. Every time.

Peeta clears his throat, his thumb stroking the top of my hand. "It was Coin," he says in a small voice. "She, ah, arranged for the tyres to be placed around the slide and hired someone to set it alight during Snow's speech."

I barely blink. In a way, I knew this already. Can birds smell death? Is that sort of thing possible? Could explain why they aren't around on such a warm day . . .

"She's been taken in for questioning and Snow has been officially sacked. I think Ms Lyme is going to apply to take over from him," Peeta explains.

Not even birds, simple; primitive; boring birds don't want to be around me.

"I have no one," I say, eyes still honed in on the bird bath.

I feel Peeta's eyes burn into the side of my face. "You have Oliver," he reminds me.

"Oliver is Mrs Trinket and Mr Abernathy's now," I say flatly. My voice is bored. Unsympathetic. Just how I feel.

Peeta's fingers tighten around mine. "You have me," he says.

I laugh. The sound is empty and has no true meaning. "You don't want me," I say.

"Katniss, that's not true"-

"You don't want me," I repeat, interrupting him before he can even finish. "You act like you do, but you don't. I'm surprised you're even still here." I look at our joined hands and scoff, rolling my eyes, returning my gaze to the bird bath. "You're just like the birds. Soon you'll just fly away and leave me behind. Everyone else does."

"Katniss"-Peeta's voice hitches but I don't feel anything. "I promise; I'm not going anywhere."

I pull my hand from his and stand up. I wander over to the bird bath and stare at my reflection in the water. The only reason I still look like a decent human being is because my nurses have been maintaining me. On the outside, I look normal, but the bags under my eyes, with the dark tint alongside them, is a hint to how I truly feel.

Outside I look normal. Inside I'm destroyed.

"How do you expect me to believe that?" I slap the water, making my reflection ripple. However, it still settles. My ugly face always comes back. I turn around and glare at Peeta. I have never felt so angry before. I know it is misplaced. I should not be taking this out on him, however I can't control myself. "You wouldn't even fuck me."

I storm off.

Back in my room, I trash the place. I swipe my arm along the chest of drawers, scattering the Get Well Soon cards everywhere. I fire the big white bear Clove sent in across the room, knocking over my jug of water in the process. My fingers dig into the plastic wrapping of the hamper Effie and Haymitch brought in and rip it apart, throwing the basket into the door. Glass smashes and liquid splashes onto the floor.

I'm angry at everything. I'm angry at the world. I'm angry at Coin. I'm angry at Snow. I'm angry at Peeta. I'm angry at my mother. But, mostly, I'm angry with myself.

My screaming eventually alerts the nurses. Two come in and try to relax me. I feel too angry and it almost feels like they're trying to back me into a corner. I'm crying and screaming as they come towards me, hands held out as if I'm some sort of animal. I slide to the floor and sit in the mess I have created, clawing at my hair and screaming into the ground.

I don't know how long I cry after that. When I'm angry like that, it hits me in waves. I could scream and cry and curse and wreck all I like but eventually I come down from it, and feel ashamed of myself for behaving in such an atrocious manner. As bad as I should feel about destroying the gifts that got sent into me, I feel worse about how I spoke to Peeta. I told him to stay away from me when I'm that awful version of myself but of course he didn't listen. That doesn't justify how I treated him though. Nothing does.

I'm lying in bed in the dark. My head is banging. It has been ever since I ran out of tears to cry. My pillow is soaked but I still lie with my cheek in the mess. The tick in my head comes every so often, causing my head to jerk off the pillow and nearly hit my bedside table. I cleaned up the mess myself, even though my hands were shaky as hell, and salvaged what I could from Effie and Haymitch's hamper.

The only way I can distract myself from how I acted earlier and the crippling shame it has caused, is by singing to Oliver. I hold my swollen belly and sing the Valley Song to him, trying to remember the days when my dad would tuck me into bed and sing the same song, stroking my hair and smiling in a way that made me feel nothing could ever go wrong. I sing until my throat hurts and long after, rubbing my belly and hoping Oliver feels it.

The door cracks open. I look up, my voice drying up in my throat.

Peeta wheels in.

I sit up, flicking my light on and watching him wearily as he shuts the door and comes closer to my bed. My heart thrums in my chest, swollen with shame and misery. Peeta looks at me, his bright blue eyes shining. He reaches out and touches my face, two words falling from his lips as easy as breathing.

"It's okay."

I burst into tears and fall into his lap. Peeta wraps his arms around me and strokes my hair as I cry. "I'm sorry," I repeat over and over again, blubbing into his shirt and clutching him as tight as I dared. Peeta shushes me and rubs my back, resting his chin against the top of my head as I sob. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it, Peeta, I promise, I just miss her so much, I know you would never leave me I know you care about me and I care about you too."

"Katniss, it's okay," Peeta says gently. He presses his lips to the top of my head and I close my eyes, my hands sliding up to his face.

I stand up and help Peeta out of the wheelchair so he can sit on my bed with me. I pull the covers back and throw them over us. My ear is over his chest, listening to his heart beating. The one thing that has always been able to calm me. The assurance that Peeta is alive, despite it all, and that he will always be by my side.

I sit up and connect our lips, the familiar tug in my stomach reminding me of how much we fit together. I reach up and cup his face, and he wraps his fingers around my wrist. We part and let my head rest against his chest again. "It's been months since we kissed," I murmur.

"We've been in psychiatric for three months now . . . It seems like they're determined to keep us apart despite keeping us in the same ward," Peeta replies.

"Three months," I repeat, closing my eyes. "Oliver is due soon."

Peeta places his hand over my stomach. "You'll be okay," he says. "There are scarier things to face than giving birth."

"Oh? Like what?"

Peeta sighs. "At this rate, we'll have to repeat Senior year when we get out of here," he says. I groan, realising that he's right. "We've missed a lot of exams . . ." He nudges me. "Including your maths repeat. Means another year stuck with me and my tutoring."

I smile into his shirt. "That doesn't sound so bad," I murmur.

Peeta smiles too. "No, it doesn't."

I rub my stomach, my shaky hands cold against my skin. "I'm so tired, Peeta."

"Then go to sleep," Peeta says, his fingers playing with the hair at the end of my braid. "I won't go anywhere."

It's surprising how easy sleep can find you when you're in the arms of someone you love.

 **A/N: Sorry it's short but I think it gets a lot across :)**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

I'm booked in for a caesarean.

Somehow, I didn't expect it to be this way.

After all the nightmares I had of childbirth; the pain and the screaming and the faces of my enemies staring me down as it all came to an end; I hadn't taken the time to consider that I mightn't give birth to Oliver naturally. I imagined my water breaking in the middle of school; of Glimmer and her pack of idiots laughing at me as I screamed the building down with agony. How did I imagine such horrific things without so much as considering a C-section? Have I really become that negative?

In a way, I'm relieved. One of my biggest fears have been somehow botching up giving birth. Maybe it's irrational of me to think that way but I always thought that I would mess something up or do something wrong because of the pain. When giving birth, there's no room for mistakes. I know it's just pushing but I've always worried that . . . I don't know . . . I'd push wrongly. Is that even possible? Now I don't have to worry. I'll be completely numb to it all.

That makes me afraid. I've been so numb to everything recently; I'm almost scared of the idea of being numb to Oliver's birth. I shouldn't want to feel something, really, because it will only cause me to create a connection between myself and my son. That can't happen. Effie and Haymitch are having him, I will cannot-and will not-be the person to snatch such an important thing away from them when I said they could have it. Oliver will always biologically be my child, but from the moment he is born he will be Effie and Haymitch's son.

The day of the caesarean comes way too fast. I'm so unprepared for it that I feel like I'm going to explode with nerves. All of my limbs are stiff as I sit on my hospital bed, every muscle coiled so tight that they almost burst. I clasp Peeta's hand in both of mine, tears swelling in my eyes. "I can't do this. I'm not ready," I say. "It's too soon. What if something goes wrong? What if I lose him just like I've lost everyone else?"

Peeta smiles encouragingly, kissing my hands gently. "You're going to be fine, Katniss," he says. "I promise. I believe in you."

My eyes fall to my stomach, which won't be swollen for much longer. I gasp, feeling like there isn't enough oxygen in the room to satisfy me. I clench my fingers around Peeta's, feeling sick with nerves. I'm shaking my head continuously, so much so that I'm almost making myself dizzy. "No, it's too soon," I say again. "There's something wrong. It can't have been nine months already."

"Katniss, there's no need to panic, I promise," Peeta says. "You're having a caesarean because Oliver is breech. That's all. Everything is going to be fine."

I want to believe him. I really, really do. But after the months of therapy; the days where I wrecked my room or shouted rude things or cursed the day I ever let Primrose out of my sight; the hours I would curse and slander Peeta just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time . . . I don't feel like I deserve such assurance. And I certainly don't trust myself to keep Oliver safe.

I've already proven myself to be a failure at keeping my loved ones safe.

My mum.

My dad.

Now Primrose.

They're all gone.

I've even hurt Peeta in some ways. I shouldn't have let him go after Primrose. I should have . . . I don't know what I should have done . . . I just . . . I just shouldn't have! If I stopped him sooner we'd have been further from the blast and his skin wouldn't be so damaged. It was my job to protect him. To aid his healing process and ensure his safety. I couldn't even do that. What is wrong with me?

Now I have Oliver. Poor, sweet, innocent Oliver. I don't want to lose him, but how can I trust myself not to somehow do something wrong? How am I going to ensure his safety when I failed so badly at protecting everyone else?

"I wish you could come with me," I murmur. They won't let Peeta into the surgery because there's some sort of health regulation because of both our states of mind after the explosion at the park. To be perfectly honest, Peeta has seemed more put together than ever. I can't say for sure, though, because he's an expert at hiding his pain. For all I know behind the closed door of his room at the ward he's just as broken as I am.

"I do too," Peeta answers, stroking the top of my hand with his thumb.

I close my eyes tight. "I'm scared," I breathe.

"Look at me." Peeta takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I believe in you, Katniss. 100% of my faith is with you. You will come out of this happy and healthy and there will be another person added to the world. Another baby to grow into a beautiful human being."

I stare at my feet, which dangle a little over the edge of the hospital bed. It's early evening and the sun streaks in through the blinds on my window. It catches Peeta's hair, making it sparkle and glow like a halo around his head. God, he's so beautiful. How can he stick with a psychotic freak like me?

A part of me knows he's most likely right. However, there is an irrational part of me that will always question each word that comes from his mouth. I've been like this ever since the accident. Peeta would tell me something-and I would know that for the most part he's right-but that voice at the back of my head; that little tickle that questions his motives takes over me and consumes my beliefs until I'm consumed by disbelief.

Is that what it was like for Peeta when I told him he wasn't fat?

The door to my room opens and my nurse wheels in a bed. I swallow the lump in my throat, my hand laying itself on my stomach for the last time. I look back at Peeta, the tears in my eyes soaking my cheeks. "I hope you're right," I say.

When I try to stand up, Peeta holds my hands firmly, preventing me from doing so. I look at him blankly, slightly surprised by his authority. He's still having to transport himself around in a wheelchair to reduce his back the agony of movement, so I have to look down at him. He stares up at me, his eyes hard as steel. "I am," he says.

He tugs me down to him and kisses me.

Kissing Peeta makes my heart soar. Despite the pain; and the heartache; and the screaming and the crying; despite my fear of the future and what I'm going to do with myself, the knowledge that Peeta is here with me right now is all I need. I feel almost revitalised, like I could fight a thousand armies and win. All because of him.

But as soon as I pull back and look at the bed the crippling fear falls on top of me all over again.

I reluctantly part from Peeta, clutching his hands until I have no choice but to let go, and let the nurse transfer me to the bed. My heart is beating so hard it's making me feel even more sick. I clutch the bed bars as they wheel me out, wishing with everything that I have that everything will go smoothly.

I wish Peeta could come with me . . .

The operating room is massive. Well, it seems massive to me. It could be because I'm staring at the ceiling and not exactly scoping the room out. My head is buzzing with a thousand thoughts a second, most of them concerning Oliver. I dearly want him to be safe. I hope the stress I've endured over the past few months hasn't done him any damage. I would never be able to forgive myself if it did.

"Because of your recent stresses, Katniss, we're going to administer anaesthesia," the nurse explains to me. "We don't want you to work yourself up to the point where you could become extremely distressed by the procedure and your psychologist informed us that he still isn't secure that you're of stable mind."

 _Thanks Doctor Aurelius,_ I think bitterly.

For some bizarre reason, as the IV is being inserted into my hand, Primrose's funeral pops into my head.

My breathing picks up involuntarily as the memory of being escorted to the graveyard blossoms in my mind. Having to remain within a particular distance of my escort; not wishing to interact with anyone, not even my friends; seeing all those fake mourners behaving like they knew my sister when they didn't. The fact that Glimmer was there; and Gale; and Cato; and even Marvel; making my blood boil to a dangerous level. Not attending the gathering afterwards that Mrs Trinket arranged because I was beginning to tremble and twitch again.

" _We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Primrose Georgina Everdeen, who tragically lost her life in the recent park explosion."_

"We're going to knock you out now, Katniss," I'm told.

"No," I answer, intense fear washing over me like a virus, "don't, I'll be trapped!"

" _Earth to earth."_

"It's okay," the nurse says gently.

"Please," I beg, grabbing her wrists desperately. "I'll be calm, I promise."

"Katniss, it's alright. You'll come to again in a couple of hours. We can't guarantee your mental stability during the procedure." She smiles widely. The blinding light above her makes her look sinister, and it does nothing to settle my nerves. "When you wake you'll have a beautiful baby boy by your side."

" _Ashes to ashes."_

I can't get trapped in Primrose's funeral. I wish every day that I could forget it. Just another reminder that she's not here anymore. And that it's all my fault. I lash out, rational thought gone; consumed by fear. "No, please, don't!" I beg, weakly fighting the nurse holding the mask off.

Another nurse grabs my wrists and holds them down. I lose my fight moments later, realising that instead of convincing them that I'm sound enough to have the surgery without being knocked out, my lashing out has only made myself look even more unstable. I burst into spontaneous tears, wishing there was something else I could do. Something to save me from getting trapped in my sister's death.

The mask is placed over my mouth. It's cold against my skin.

I get light headed. My eyes roll around my head like marbles.

" _Dust to dust."_

"Just think," my nurse beams, "when you wake, you'll be a mother!"

I pass out.

" _Amen."_

~xXx~

I wake up slowly. The world around me is blurry and nebulous. I groan and massage my eyelids. God, my abdomen hurts. My entire lower body feels numb and my skin feels like it's on fire. I'm lying on my side and, if I had the energy to try hard enough, I could probably swing myself onto my back, but I don't. In fact, I'm contemplating going back to sleep because I feel too heavy to function at the moment . . .

I remember.

Panic flushes through me and my eyes snap open.

Two eyes stare back at me.

Two wide, grey eyes.

A tiny creature lies in the incubator by my beside. I can't breathe. Oh my god. Tears are spurting out uncontrollably and I'm sobbing. He's here. After all of the fear and the panic and the worry; he's here. My beautiful baby boy.

"Oliver," I whisper, reaching out over the side of the bed to touch the incubator. His eyes slide closed and he kicks his tiny legs. I laugh, my tears soaking my lips and mouth, coating my tongue in salt water. "You're so beautiful," I cry.

A hand touches mine and I yelp with surprise. I look for the culprit and find Peeta sitting by my bedside in his wheelchair, beaming what has to be the widest smile I have ever seen him wear. "I told you that you could do it," he says.

"Can I hold him?" I ask.

"I don't see why not, although you're probably best asking for a nurse's assistance."

Peeta gets a nurse into the room. She's bright and breezy, sliding into the room fresh as a daisy. "Hello Miss Everdeen!" she beams. "Congratulations!" She approaches Oliver in the incubator and says, "Do you want to hold him?"

"Please!" I answer, wincing that I sound almost aggressive.

The nurse is unfazed by my snarky answer. She scoops Oliver out of his incubator-almost taking too long for my liking-and gives him to me. I don't even notice her leave again. I'm so rapt with the creature in my arms. He's so warm and so small. I hold him carefully against my chest, which he immediately nuzzles into. My hands shake only the tiniest of bits.

"The first thing he heard was your heartbeat," Peeta tells me. "They always place the baby on top of the mother's chest so they can hear their heartbeat and bond with them."

"I shouldn't be the one bonding with him," I say, my voice shaky from all the crying.

Peeta looks almost saddened. "I know," he says. "But you'll always be his mum, in one way or another. Effie and Haymitch won't shut you out completely, not after all you have done for them."

My eyes haven't left Oliver's. They physically won't budge. "I don't know if I can do that," I say. "I don't know if I could pretend that I'm not his real mother. I didn't expect to-I didn't think I would"-

"Fall in love with him so quickly?" asks Peeta.

I nod mutely.

Because it's true. I have only held Oliver for two minutes and yet I know that I will fight to my dying breath to protect him. My son. My gorgeous baby boy. Nobody will hurt him as long as I live and breathe. I won't allow it. It's my duty-no-my _honour_ to be the saviour and the guardian and the protector of this innocent child.

But that's just it.

I can't.

He's not my son.

Not anymore.

Peeta eyes me, concern in his blue eyes. "Are you going to keep him?" he asks. There's a tinge of worry in his voice. He knows just how unfair that would be of me to do but is trying to make it sound like it's my choice.

When I know that it's not.

I sniff up and swallow hard. Pressing my lips to the top of Oliver's head, I close my eyes. "No," I whisper.

Peeta reaches out and takes my hand in his. I'm crying again but I can't remember when it started. It's a mixture of joy and sorrow. Of knowing that my boy is going to be taken care of, but also knowing that in the process of that I have to lose him first. So I take this moment to hold him. To hold him against my chest and feel his heat against my skin. To feel his tiny heart racing against mine.

"I love you Oliver," I whisper. "And I always will."

And as I cradle my son against my chest, I realise why Prim's funeral came into my mind before the nurses knocked me out.

Because death doesn't exist on its own. With death comes new life. It won't take away the pain of my sister's death-nothing will be able to do that-but making sure that Oliver lives a happy life with Effie and Haymitch is a start. And to that I must get my act together and get out of this hospital, hopefully with Peeta. I'm going to fight the pain, in Prim's name, and safeguard Oliver. Not as his mother, but his guardian instead.

Life is a blessing.

And I just created a miracle.

 **A/N: Some details may have been slightly altered from reality (such as Peeta not being allowed in during the surgery and why Katniss had to get locked out) to fit the plot but I'm sure you guys don't mind, right? :)**

 **Please R &R with your thoughts! We're nearly finished now, can you believe it?**


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

 _My name is Katniss Everdeen._

 _I am nineteen years old._

 _I have survived._

 _My sister is dead._

 _Peeta is here._

 _I love him so much it's almost painful._

 _Oliver is happy._

 _That's all that matters._

It's summer. I am out of hospital. Peeta and I were released in early July, but we are still under close watch. We must visit a counsellor weekly, but I don't mind as long as I am free. I actually talk to Doctor Aurelius now. I've stopped being difficult and each week I sit down with him and we discuss how I have been and what's been going on. It doesn't necessary have to be about miserable things. In fact, sometimes we just talk about miscellaneous things. All year I thought he was trying to trip me up; get me to admit something that I didn't mean; now I know that's not the case. He wants to help me. And I want to help him help me.

My cast came off while I was in hospital, and I had grown so used to it being there that once it was off again I was kind of baffled. Of course, my leg is forever delicate now, and could break again easily if I put it under too much strain. But after half a year of that injury holding me back, I am glad to be rid of it. If came down to it though, and I was given the choice to break it or not back that night in my bathroom, I would do it again. Without a second thought. Breaking my leg was what sparked all of this. And I couldn't be more thankful for that.

Peeta sees Doctor Aurelius too. We don't push each other to talk about what was said in our sessions, but I know that Aurelius has touched the topic of Peeta's anorexia, for Peeta has not only been steadily getting better, but in such large leaps I can't comprehend it. I'm so happy he's getting better and I will eternally be in Aurelius' debt for putting into words what I couldn't.

Of course, Peeta isn't out of the woods, nor am I, but we are healing. Slowly but surely. Together.

We live together in my house. My mum left the entire District when Primrose died and hasn't returned. I've called my grandma, and she said that mum is up here with her. She doesn't know when she will come back. I am angry that my mum just took off like that, as she did when dad died, but I don't blame her. I acted irrationally as well.

I just wish she had considered what she was leaving behind.

Peeta and I will have to repeat our Senior year. If I had known this six months prior, I would have torn the heavens down with rage. However, when Johnna; Annie; Finch; Finnick; and Clove were given access to visit us in May when we were still hospitalised, they explained to us how Ms Lyme became the principal of the school and abolished the food chain.

And I mean _abolished_ it.

Glimmer and Gale don't rule the school anymore. Any time they misbehave or break the rules, Lyme punished them accordingly. Gale even ended up getting banned from the Final Game of the Season because how he acted in the final months of the year. The football players and the cheerleaders have had their budget cut in half so that the money can go towards books and stationary for the classrooms. There is a zero tolerance for bullying and anyone who goes against this is punished severely.

Johanna explained that Lyme used us as an example in an assembly, and described with avid passion that she would not stand for such abhorrent behaviour while she was in charge. That if any child under her care was put under such pressure that they resorted to the means that Peeta did; or the destructive tendencies that I had; then she would think herself a failure as an educator. For it was her duty to make sure that students like Peeta and I were happy in our position and weren't in pain or afraid; even outside the classroom. And she stated, right there on the spot, that Principal Snow was a failure. Annie said that it moved a lot of students to tears.

That was what surprised me the most. I never stopped to think about those inbetween. Those students who weren't overly popular but weren't 'losers' either. Those who had been blissfully unaware of what was going on until the climbing frame was set on fire by Coin and everything was exposed. How horrified they must have been to discover what was going on right under their noses.

The thing that gives me most hope, however, is the initiative that Lyme has put forward. She has created Support Groups for any and every student suffering from anorexia; bulimia; depression; any mental affliction; who meet each afternoon. There's an on campus counsellor, open for all, and she reinstated sexual education, which is delving into the education of sexuality and teenage pregnancy.

Lyme is picking up the pieces that Snow destroyed and isn't gluing them together but welding them back in place. She is doing what should have been done from the very beginning: putting the students' health and safety first.

Peeta and I sit underneath our tree on a sunny August afternoon. I'm lying with my head in his lap, staring at the gorgeous blue sky through the luscious green leaves on the branches. "Did you see Oliver today?" he asks me.

I nod. "Effie and I took him to the park," I explain. "Just for a walk. He's still too young to actually use anything. We didn't want to waste such a good day sitting inside the house."

Effie and Haymitch have been so good to be. They let me visit Oliver as often as I want and don't feel at all threatened by my desire to stay in his life. Effie even asked me if she wanted her to raise him to call me Mum. I said no, because that's not fair. It would be amazing to be able to have Oliver recognise me as his mother from a young age but it's not fair on Haymitch and especially not fair on Effie. Besides, he'll know someday. When he's much older he will learn of me and Marvel. I just hope I can fix my life enough to make the discovery not as jarring as it may seem.

I tried to contact Marvel after I gave birth to Oliver but he seems to have disappeared. Whether he left Panem after school ended or he is simply avoiding me, I don't know. All I do know is that Effie and Haymitch will allow him to be involved, to a particular extent, if he wants to be. But that's exactly it. He has to make the decision to come to them himself. We aren't going to come running after him.

"How is he?"

"He's doing so well," I gush. "He was smiling away and grabbing the small mobile that is attached to his pram." Tears gather in my eyes and I close them, smiling to the sky. "He's so beautiful. I'm so proud of him."

Peeta strokes his hand over the top of my head, pushing my hair back from my face. "I'm so glad you've found happiness," he says quietly.

I reopen my eyes, my gaze latching to Peeta's instantly. There's so much in those blue orbs; so much love and desire and affection; so much fear and vulnerability; I can only hope that I have the ability to project the same emotions back to him. "I'm so glad that I found you," I reply.

Peeta's smile is so vulnerable that it makes my heart stutter. Almost like he's in a state of disbelief. I reach out and touch his face, stroking my thumb across his cheek lovingly. "I'm so glad I found you," I repeat. "You're my saviour Peeta, you always have been. Not only did you save me from the food chain, but you've saved me from myself."

"Katniss," he says quietly, "I don't think you understand how much you've done for _me._ If you hadn't come into my life when you did, I wouldn't be here right now."

"Don't say that," I reply. My voice cracks. Splinters like wood. I don't like to think about how bad Peeta was when we first met. He was in such a dark place and treated himself in such awful ways, it makes my stomach churn to even think about.

"It's true," he says seriously. "I would have driven myself into an early grave, Katniss." He inhales shakily, like the very idea now terrifies him. "You gave me a reason to try to fix myself. I would never leave you. You mean so much to me. You became my reason to fight and win. You're my reason for living, Katniss."

I cover my eyes with my hand. I'm stuck between a feeling of overwhelming happiness and extreme disbelief. His words are so beautiful, I almost can't believe that I am on the receiving end of them. That they are being directed at me and only me. I am not worthy of such praise.

"You won't die," I say, my voice small. It's pathetic of me to say. He's already said he wouldn't die because he wouldn't leave me, but even the thought of Peeta leaving me in the same manner as my sister is so petrifying I need to clarify its inaccuracy.

"I won't," Peeta replies, stroking my cheek lovingly. "I'm as far from death as I have been in a very long time."

I smile proudly. I touch his hand on my face and move it to my lips, pressing a kiss to his palm. "You are my fighter," I murmur into his skin. "My strong; brave; beautiful knight."

Peeta moves his hand and leans down, connecting our lips. I touch his face with my hands and return the kiss, holding him to me for me and absorbing the affection and adoration that he always projects into every single embrace. "You are my Queen then," he says, his voice a whisper against my lips.

"Queen?" I tease, raising my eyebrows. "Not Princess?"

"You didn't need to be rescued from the high castle. In fact, in the end you'd probably have fought the dragon yourself and carried me out to my horse," Peeta answers.

I laugh and pull him to me again, reconnecting our lips. The sun warming my skin; the grass beneath my back; the feeling of the most important man in my life in my arms the most perfect setting I can ever imagine. It begins very sweet and chaste; but as time slides on and begins to blur together; the sun isn't what's making me feel hot anymore.

When nose breathing grows obsolete and we have to part for air, I fan myself with my hand. "I'm going to have pit stains," I complain, sitting up and double checking. My voice is painfully high pitched. "I shouldn't have put a grey shirt on."

"It is really hot today," Peeta agrees, although his voice is sort of high like mine.

"Is your pacemaker okay? You were supporting your weight there for a while and you're not supposed to be doing that," I ask, scooting closer to him.

"I'm fine," Peeta assures, throwing his arm around my shoulders. I let my head fall against his and place my hand on his stomach, where-even over his shirt-I cannot feel his ribs anymore. We sit this way for a while, simply listening to the birds singing in the surrounding forest and the bristling of the wind through the grass.

When I'm feeling down, one of the first things I do is go outside. Sometimes just hearing the life that sits right on my doorstep is enough to reassure me. Life is constantly here; in the wind and the rain and the trees and the wildlife. The song of a bird; the twitter of an insect; the tapping of a beak against wood; are sometimes enough to make me feel better. I need to know that life goes on, and there is no better way to do that than through nature.

"Katniss," Peeta eventually says.

"Yeah?" I murmur, my eyes having slid closed a couple of minutes prior to absorb everything going on around me.

"I . . . I think I'm ready."

I frown and open my eyes. "Ready for what?" I ask, confused. I look at him, raising my eyebrows when he flushes. Am I supposed to know what he's talking about? Am I missing something?

"I, um, think I'm ready to . . . uh . . . sleepwithyou." He says the last three words in such a rush they sound conjoined, and it takes me a moment to decipher his meaning.

But when I do, my heart stops completely.

"Peeta, are you sure?" I ask seriously, sitting up straight and facing him properly. "There isn't any pressure to do this. I mean, we haven't really talked about it in months, and I can wait for months more if that's what it takes"-

I honestly hadn't thought about sex with Peeta ever since Prim's death. I had urges, sure, but it never crossed my mind to invite him into those urges, even when I was in my darkest hours. Maybe on a subconscious level I always knew that he wasn't ready yet. The only time it ever came up was when I threw it at him that day in the garden. The day I still don't feel like I deserve forgiveness for.

"That's exactly it," Peeta insists. The sunlight makes his blue eyes glisten, highlighting the hope and slight excitement he feels. "There has been no pressure. You have given me the space I have needed to become ready. It's been rough; these past few months . . . But now I am content. I'm not 100% in my own skin but I am more comfortable than I have been since my anorexia developed and you're here and you're happy and healthy and you have no idea how happy that makes me. And you're so beautiful." He looks down at his hands and frowns to himself. "So, so beautiful." He shakes his head. "Maybe I'm being stupid."

"Hey," I say, tipping his chin up with my knuckle, so our eyes meet again. "You aren't being stupid. Why would you think that?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I'm just . . . I don't know . . . I want to try, at least. I know that much. Even if I can't in the end, I want us to try."

My heart swells in my chest and I thread our hands together. "Only if you're sure," I say.

Peeta smiles shyly, a beautiful blush staining his cheeks as he nods. "I am," he replies. "I have never been so sure before in my life."

We meet in a kiss.

~xXx~

My bedroom lamp is the only source of light in the room. We're under my sheets, encompassed in warmth, as summer rain pounds the window outside. I take charge, for it is what I am good for. I am the experienced one; it's my duty to care for him; to hold his hands; and guide him through this.

For the sake of his pacemaker, he is beneath me, which I don't mind at all. His eyes are closed, his expression caught between peace and pleasure. Our hands are threaded together beneath the sheets. We are one another's anchor, keeping each other safe and afloat. We move in sync, like we are two halves of the one unit; our harsh breathing filling the room in a symphony; the bed springs creaking the tiniest of bits with the weight of both of us on the mattress.

"Hey," I whisper, my lips inches from his. "Are you okay?"

Peeta nods, fingers tightening around mine. His expression twists and I worry; briefly wondering if I did something wrong. "Is this really happening?" he asks.

I release his hands and cup his face. "Yeah," I say, stroking his cheekbones with my thumbs.

"I'm not going to wake up back in the bakery and you're Gale's girlfriend instead of mine?" His breathing hitches, his voice consumed with fear and worry.

"No," I answer gently. "Of course not."

I rock forward, a fond smile consuming my face at how it makes his eyes flutter and his lips part. I lean forward and kiss him, my hands pushing back and through his hair. He shudders against me, arms coming around my waist and holding me tight against his body; like he's scared I'm going to disappear.

A tiny grunt escapes me, tendrils of desire curling up my arms and around my spine. Nothing could have prepared me for how this feels. How sex with someone I love would feel compared to all the meaningless encounters I have had up to this point. My head falls against Peeta's chest and I release a breath I didn't realise I had been holding.

"I'm here," I say, letting my lips rest against his skin as I speak. He's holding me so tight, I know he's scared of losing me somehow through this. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I am . . ." Peeta's heart stutters inside him and I kiss his chest reassuringly . . . "Am I doing okay?"

His concern makes me smile. Of course he's worried. This is his first time; he probably thinks he isn't doing it right. I push up so our eyes can meet. His blue eyes are pronounced in the gloom, highlighted by the glow of my lamp. I see so much in those eyes. So much hope; and fear; and strength. So much anguish and pain passed those eyes. No more. I won't allow it.

My blood heats up and a gasp escapes me as our hips meet. "You're perfect," I moan, my head falling back to bask in the moment for a second. When my head rolls back down and I open my eyes, I realise that Peeta's crying. "Oh my god, what's wrong?" I immediately panic, thumbing away his tears quickly.

I try to sit up but he grabs my elbows and halts me, shaking his head. "No," he insists. "I didn't mean to-I don't mean you need to"-He takes a shaky breath, his hands sliding up my arms and resting on my shoulders. "It's just that word . . ."

My eyes soften and I lie down against him again, our naked bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. "Perfect?" I ask.

His voice cracks as he says, "I never thought I'd ever reach a point where I would . . ." He closes his eyes, causing more tears to spurt out. "Where, just for a moment, I would actually believe you when you say that."

A lump forms in my throat and I cover my mouth with my hand. He believed me. It was only for a moment but he actually believed me when I said he was perfect. "You are, you really are," I say, not even ashamed that I am now crying too.

I kiss him hard, tasting salt water on his lips as our tears mingle together. We're such a mess, the both of us, but that doesn't matter. We laugh through our tears, teeth clashing together as we kiss in what has to be the messiest fashion ever. When we part and I take control again, Peeta cups my face and kisses every inch lovingly.

"It takes one to know one," he moans as his lips touch the tip of my nose.

I smile, my hand drifting down his chest and resting on his stomach. Even having my hand rest there, and feel muscle instead of bones, is enough to bring tears to my eyes. I feel Peeta's thumb against my eye, swiping a tear back.

The moment is charged. It's emotional and loving and, sure a bit messy. But it's oh so amazing. Oh so beautiful. Oh so perfect.

As it ends, and I have the honour of watching my boyfriend experience his first ever surge of ecstatic release, I know that as long as Peeta is here with me I shall always be complete.

Before Peeta, I had a black heart. A black heart that held no remorse or affection for anyone but myself. When I started studying with him, it was . . . almost like my heart hadn't been black at all. It had just been covered in soot. So Peeta took it into his gentle hands and began to wipe away all the blackness, revealing a girl capable of anything beneath it. After the hell I had put him through; all the agony and hardship my cruelness caused; the pain just made him kind.

So we helped each other.

We still are.

For nothing is set in stone, nor is it perfect. My sister has been dead for six months now, and I still nowhere near recovering from that. I haven't seen my mother in weeks. My leg could break again if I so much as trip the wrong way. I don't get to see my son every day of the week, every hour of the day, as sometimes I wish I could. I have days where all I can do is lie in bed in darkness, wallowing in self-pity.

Nothing is ever perfect.

I have my friends, who help me through whenever I feel low. I visit my sister's grave every week, and lay fresh flowers on the soil when the old ones' wither and die. I call my grandma every other day to check up on my mum. I take painkillers for my leg and have begun practicing cheerleading again for next year's signups. I visit Oliver as often as possible, filling the hole that giving him away had left behind. Every time I can't get out of bed, Peeta is there to help me up.

We are here to help each other up.

I know I have the same effect on Peeta now. He has days where he's low, as well. Days where he wonders if it's all worth it; and days where his hand trembles as he holds a fork to his mouth. I am there for him, always, for I will not lose somebody else that I love so dearly. I take that fear-the fear of losing him-and apply it to myself. I remind myself that Peeta probably feels the same level of fear when I shut him out and hide under my duvet. And the thought alone of him being put through that is enough to make me drag my butt off the mattress to face the light of day.

It's scary, but I always know that Peeta will be there.

So I lie down beside him now, and rest my head against his chest. He's a bit sweaty but I don't care. Listening to his laboured pants as he comes down from the sweet high lulls me almost like a lullaby. I close my eyes and consume the moment, knowing that there will be plenty more like this but wishing to memorise every detail none the less.

"I hope I made it special," I murmur.

I feel Peeta's hands on my back, his fingers through my hair. I shiver and snuggle closer to him, if that is humanly possible. "Of course you did," he murmurs back.

That's all I wanted. For Peeta's first time to be spectacular, and not at all like mine. I used to throw this sort of thing around like it wasn't anything important. Sex isn't important, when it's with someone you don't care about. You can do it as often as you want, but it never adds up in your brain as anything special.

Combining every man I have ever done it with-every drunken mishap; every quickie at parties; every fumble with Marvel-none of it was even half what I just had with Peeta. And that's because I love him. So, so much. That makes the world of difference.

"You love me," Peeta says unsurely, "Real or not real?"

A content smile overtakes my face. "Real."

Never was there an easier word ever spoken.

 **A/N: I wanted when they finally did do it with one another for it to be as tasteful as possible. Mainly because this story has been about their journey together, and how they have healed one another, and I didn't think a random; carnal; messy sex scene would fit after all they've been through.**

 **That, and I suck at writing straight sex anyways. I'm not even 100% with what's written here. What do you guys think? Was it okay?**

 **I can't believe there's only an epilogue now. Hard to believe we started this journey together more than a year ago! Thank you to everyone who has stayed with this story since the beginning, I know it hasn't been easy. Your love and support has kept me writing :-)**


	27. Epilogue

" _Hold fast to dreams,_

 _For if dreams die_

 _Life is a broken-winged bird,_

 _That cannot fly."_

_Langston Hughes_

Epilogue

Oliver wades through the high grass, tiny hand enclosed in Peeta's, following him like a shadow. The sun shines down on them both, making them look like celestial beings. It makes me smile The two people I love more than I can describe, highlighted in the sunlight. Perfect.

Peeta and I are babysitting for Haymitch and Effie. Now that Oliver is three years old, they're trying to get back into the groove of socialising. I always said that if they ever needed somebody, I would always be there, and neither of them doubted that. They trusted me to look after him to the best of my ability, but not to abuse my position to brainwash Oliver or tell him he's adopted. I love him too much for that. He will find out when he's older. When he can understand better.

Peeta is so good with Oliver. He knows exactly what to do to make him laugh and somehow gets him to fall for the same tricks every time. I watch him do this now, as they crouch in the grass below the tree. Peeta produces a plastic bottle cap and pretends to hold it beneath his armpit. He then reaches behind him and shows Oliver the cap which now sits on his thumb. Oliver claps and laughs, grabbing Peeta's hand and taking the plastic cap to try himself.

I could sit here forever. By Peeta and I's tree. Watching the two most important people in my life interact and play. Nothing could get more perfect than this. Nothing could ever beat this bliss.

Peeta and I repeated our Senior Year, and we passed our tests with flying colours. I even scraped maths, getting a C in the final exam which heaved my grade up to a C overall. Now Peeta studies at art college and I'm studying biology at the Capitol. I don't know what I'm going to pursue yet as a career, but that just adds to the fun of it all. Not knowing what's coming around the corner is terrifying but thrilling at the same time.

We are by no means perfect, Peeta and I. We still have our flaws. I still take medication to cope with Prim's death and Peeta still visits Doctor Aurelius on a regular basis so that he doesn't return to that dark place he was at when we met. I help in whatever way that I can, and I'm so proud of the progress he's made. He eats every meal, and has even started working out. No, pride doesn't even cover it. I am . . . ecstatic. Every day, when I see him eat without pause or concern, I am overjoyed.

I am also proud of myself. I am proud of the progress that I have made, too. For I dragged myself out of a dark hole that had seemed endless, and now I'm bathing in light of day. It may have taken a while, and if it hadn't been for Peeta coming into my life I may never have come out of it. But I did. And I am so happy that I have him. That he is mine and no one else's.

I still love him with all of my heart. Nothing can ever change that.

Oliver races on his tiny legs up the hill to the tree. He throws himself at me, and winds his tiny arms around my neck. I laugh and hug him tight. "Hi sweetie," I breathe, my face nestled in the crook of his neck, "are you okay?"

Oliver pulls away and looks at me. "Last night, we had nightmare," he tells me. He isn't completely literate yet, and would tell me the most random of things, but I don't care. He could tell me every detail of what he had for breakfast and I would listen to him with my full attention.

"A nightmare?" I ask. Oliver nods. I hold his small hands and stroke the top of them with my thumbs. "Peeta and I have nightmares too."

"Really?" he asks, his voice tiny but full of intrigue.

I look over my shoulder at Peeta, who has taken a moment to have a breather at the bottom of the hill, giving himself a moment before he began to climb. His body could slow him down sometimes, despite his working out and healthy eating, and he was still adjusting to it again. We smile at one another and my heart swells. I return my gaze to my beautiful son and brush my fingers through his hair.

"Someday I'll tell you why they came," I tell him, "and why they'll never go away. But do you want to know how I deal with them?"

Oliver nods, the purest look in his big grey eyes.

"I make a list, in my head, of every good deed I've seen somebody do. It doesn't matter what it is, or how small it may seem, I repeat it over and over in my head. It may seem like the world is a cruel place, but I keep listing, and it makes it just that little bit better." I laugh softly. "It gets a bit tedious after a while, of course, but . . ."

Peeta finally makes it to the top of the hill. He leans forward and kisses the top of my head, just as Oliver lets go of my hands and launches at him for a hug. Peeta laughs and picks him up, whirling him around in a circle.

I gaze up at them both, feeling nothing but undying affection for the both of them. This is my life. No matter how many edges have been torn, I will always come back. Stronger than ever.

"There are much worse games to play."

 **A/N: So. Yeah. That's it.**

 **I want to talk a moment to thank everyone who read; voted; commented; and followed this story. Seriously, your words of support for both It's a Jungle Out There and Broken Winged Birds that Cannot Fly has been so amazing and overwhelming. Sometimes I felt like you were all being too kind and I didn't deserve it! You have no idea how delighted I am that you enjoyed my work so much and I couldn't have asked for better readers.**

 **But, hey, I'm going to keep writing. Just because one story is closed doesn't mean another book can't be opened. If any of you are interested in continuing to read some of my work, I have the first chapter of my next Everlark project "Catch your Breath" already published. If you're interested, go have a look. I'll leave the synopsis here:**

 _ **Modern Day AU/OOC: Katniss is a mute girl desperate to die. Peeta is a cancer patient desperate to live. Their lives are on the opposite sides of the spectrum.**_

 _ **When Katniss joins a website called The Reaping, which gives her 23 days to live before she must finally take her life, she thinks she is ready for death. With many botched attempts in her trail, she is determined not to mess up this last time.**_

 _ **Those 23 days, however, were going to shift her entire world around. She meets Peeta, a boy who'd relapsed so many times but still had hope for a better tomorrow. His ability to laugh and smile despite his condition fascinates Katniss and the more they interact, the more weary she becomes of the prospect of dying. Can she learn the sanctity of life before the 23 days are up?**_

 _ **Peeta has no choice. But Katniss does.**_

 **But seriously. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you. I am so glad I could take this journey with you all.**

 **May the Odds be Ever in your Favour :)**


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